


Playing With Fire

by dracoqueen22



Category: Bleach
Genre: AU after Chapter 295, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-War, Pure Fun, Slightly Crack if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-13
Updated: 2013-08-13
Packaged: 2017-12-23 10:15:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 20,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/925168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dracoqueen22/pseuds/dracoqueen22
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On a surprise visit, Shinji runs into Renji and finds himself intrigued. A chase ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was originally written in 2011 and posted on my livejournal. As such, it doesn't take any of the current manga events into account and probably contains some erroneous details now.

It was the rise and fall of aggressive reaitsu that had intrigued Shinji in the first place. While his original intention in visiting the shoten had been to catch up on old times with a certain blond shopkeeper, Shinji found himself sidetracked by the power that practically radiated from the floorboards. He knew that Kisuke had one of his special underground training facilities beneath his shop and curiosity had always been one of Shinji’s downfalls.   
  
He followed the siren’s call of reiatsu to the basement, where an explosion of dust and power radiated from the far end, all but calling to him. Shinji didn’t need to get closer to identify the fighters, though a closer look was certainly warranted. One was most definitely Kurosaki Ichigo. It was hard to miss the peculiarities in Kurosaki’s reiatsu – human mixed with Shinigami mixed with Hollow and even a little something else just to round things out. Yeah, definitely hard to confuse Kurosaki Ichigo with anyone else.   
  
The second reiatsu, however, was a bit harder to pinpoint. There was a sense of familiarity in the hot metal taste and aggressive force of it. It was definitely Shinigami, not Kisuke, but a familiar force of power from the war. The fact that it was an appropriate level for bankai and there were few Shinigami capable of bankai who could be found in Karakura limited the pool significantly.   
  
Abarai Renji. Shinji pondered as he dropped to the ground and approached the dueling duo, curious to the core. Currently vice-captain of the sixth division, under one stoic and uppity Kuchiki Byakuya who hadn’t grown out of his stubborn and arrogant phase, no matter what anyone tried to tell Shinji, and wielder of a rather impressive bankai. Abarai was better known for his flame-colored hair, vibrant tattoos, and an insane drive to make himself strong enough to beat his captain one day.   
  
Shinji snorted. Good luck with that. No Kuchiki would ever allow himself to be beaten by a mutt from Rukongai. But then, this particular Kuchiki had suffered defeat at the hands of a strange kid from the Living World, so perhaps Abarai had a chance after all. Only time would tell.   
  
Still, Abarai’s determination was admirable, if foolish. Shinji remembered seeing him on the battlefield a couple of times, and remembered Kisuke mentioning something about the redhead being a constant visitor to the shoten. But Shinji had not met him in person yet. Today was to be the day, it seemed.   
  
Shinji approached the building cloud of dust and debris, swirling in an agitated storm of reiatsu with both brows raised and a whistle of appreciation on his lips. Ichigo was in full Hollow-mode, cackling as he streaked across the sky in a blur of black and red. And chasing after him was a snake born of bone and power, fanged mouth agape.   
  
Shinji whistled again. “Impressive as always,” he murmured to himself, ignoring the rattle of Sakanade at his hip, very interested in joining the two boys in their game.   
  
“Three years later and I still understand so little about him,” a voice inserted behind Shinji.   
  
He glanced over his shoulder to see Kisuke approaching, a mischievous smile on his lips as Benihime tapped against the ground. “Though the mystery is only part of the appeal.”   
  
“Of course,” Kisuke said, eyes twinkling despite the shading of his ever-present hat. He tipped his head to the side. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?”   
  
Shinji spread his hands, his tone falsely innocent. “Can’t a guy just visit his old friend? Catch up on old times?”   
  
One ash-blond brow arched inquisitively. “Why am I finding that so hard to believe, Hirako-san?”   
  
Shinji sniffed, turning away from his old friend to watch the two young men trying to beat the living daylights out of each other. The dance of powerful reiatsu over Shinji’s skin was a sensation he couldn’t ignore. And, well, the view wasn’t too bad either.   
  
“Hirako-san?” Shinji repeated, trying to sound wounded as he lifted a hand, pressing it over his chest. “Kisuke, I’m hurt. I thought we were closer than that.”   
  
A kidoh split the air, poorly aimed, but well executed, creating a brilliant, powerful flash of white-blue lightning. Shinji wasn’t sure who had cast the spell, but suspected it had been Abarai. Ichigo’s kidoh skills were beneath mentioning, unless, of course, one wanted to be amused. Then again, from what Shinji had heard, Abarai’s weren’t really that impressive either.   
  
Kisuke stepped up beside him, watching from the corner of his eyes. “You always were a drama queen,” he said, with a quirk of his lips, fingers rolling over the head of his disguised zanpakutou.   
  
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Shinji said dryly, and watched as two zanpakutou clashed, or to be honest, Ichigo’s black sword collided against the bone of Abarai’s bankai whose name escaped Shinji at the moment.   
  
Dust made it difficult to see the two fighters, but Shinji’s senses were acute. He could feel the teasing buzz of reiatsu, thick in the air.   
  
“So…” Kisuke prompted, lifting his eyebrows at Shinji.   
  
“So what?”   
  
“You never answered me.”   
  
Shinji’s lips curled. “Maybe I’m just here to admire the scenery,” he said, Sakanade vibrating at his side as the taste of reiatsu in the air grew stronger and more vibrant. Sometimes, Shinji truly did miss the rush and flurry of battle.   
  
“And which would that be?” There was a hint of jealousy and possessiveness in the shopkeeper’s tone, enough that Shinji chuckled, amused.   
  
“Don’t you worry, Kisuke,” Shinji reassured, his eyes flitting from Ichigo’s black-clothed form to the Vizard’s sparring partner, one Shinji hadn’t had opportunity to examine up close and now regretted that fact. “I was referring to the pineapple. I know better than to ogle strawberries.”   
  
Kisuke grinned, winking at Shinji. “Maybe you do. But you can’t help but look.”   
  
His lips twitched as Shinji returned his attention to the dueling men, who finally looked as they were tiring. The fight itself, also, was getting closer. “You’ve got me there. You ought to share your good fortune.”   
  
“Not a chance,” Kisuke sniffed without meeting a beat.   
  
“Selfish prick,” Shinji said without any heat behind the words.   
  
“Slutty Vizard.”   
  
“You didn’t seem to mind it – whoa!”   
  
Shinji abruptly darted to the side, using a burst of shunpo to grant him extra speed as Ichigo came barreling past him, the open maw of Abarai’s bony bankai right on his heels. Kisuke, too, had leapt out of the way, one hand on his hat to hold it in place. Ichigo might have tossed an apology over his shoulder, but Shinji couldn’t hear it over the whipping wind, crunching rock, and whirling reiatsu.   
  
Kisuke was laughing despite getting a face full of dusty wind, proud as ever of his powerful lover, while Shinji was just a smidge annoyed. Ichigo must have seen them. Couldn’t he have tried to avoid them maybe?   
  
“Look out!”   
  
It took several seconds for the warning to filter through Shinji’s senses – by the gods he’d been out of battle too long – and he moved too slowly, like a man moving through a thick swamp. He turned just in time to see a blur of black and red before it crashed into him and knocked Shinji clean out of the air. He and his attacker – he assumed it to be Abarai – tumbled head over heels, entangled together as they slammed into the ground in a gigantic cloud of dirt and debris.   
  
At first, Shinji was too surprised to do much more than lay there, half-covered by something much larger than himself, and then his brain caught up with the circumstances. A stream of profanity slipped past his lips. He struggled to untangle his limbs from Abarai’s, annoyed by the armful of young Shinigami, until he realized just how pleasant his armful actually was.   
  
Well, not at the moment, because Abarai himself was furious and spitting curses, his face flushed with exertion and embarrassment. He had dissolved his bankai, leaving less for them to untangle, and his hair was a tangled mess of scarlet over his shoulders. Quite an intoxicating shade at that, Shinji mused inwardly. He’d love to get a good grip on it and pull. Judging by those tattoos, he had a feeling Abarai would like it. Hell, he’d probably beg for more.   
  
Abarai was fighting to get free, and Shinji took his time in doing so, taking the opportunity to “accidentally” get a grip on well-toned arms, thighs, and even a glancing slide of his palm over Abarai’s rump. A nicely shaped rump at that. Shinji was grinning by the time Abarai had managed to untangle himself and stumble to his feet, face streaked with dirt and sweat, looking rumpled and disordered.   
  
“Ichigo!” Abarai roared, obviously blaming his mishap on said Vizard. “You bastard! You did that on purpose!”   
  
Ichigo, having returned to the scene of the crime once he realized he'd lost his pursuer, wasn’t ready to take the blame. “It’s not my fault you weren’t watching where you were going,” he shouted, getting nose to, well, chin since he wasn’t as tall as Abarai. Which made their whole argument all the more amusing.   
  
Shinji took his time in rising to his feet, brushing dust and dirt off his clothes and trying to look nonchalant over the whole deal. His inner thigh was aching from where Abarai’s knee had collided with it, but it was nothing he couldn’t handle. He watched as Ichigo and Abarai started bickering like a couple of children, taking the time to admire the nice contrast of tanned skin with dark tattoos.   
  
“Uh oh, I know that look,” Kisuke said, arriving at Shinji’s side with a loud tap of geta on compacted dirt and stone.   
  
“What?” Shinji asked with fake innocence, brushing tiny rocks off his sleeves and adjusting his tie from where it was pulled haphazardly from his vest. He made it a point to dress with impeccable style.   
  
Kisuke rolled his eyes, not bothering to hide his reaction. “Innocence doesn’t suit you, Shinji,” he said. “You're setting your sights on Abarai, aren’t you?”   
  
Tucking a stray strand of hair behind his ear, Shinji sniffed. “Whatever gave you that idea?”   
  
“Oh, I don’t know. The way you were playing grabby-hands with his ass, maybe?” Kisuke retorted, his voice rich with amusement. “Not that I blame you. He is rather attractive.”   
  
“Plays for both teams, does he?”   
  
The look on Kisuke’s face was full of mystery, eyes once again shaded by the brim of that hideous hat. “My sources say yes.”   
  
Shinji absently licked his lips, watching as Abarai and Ichigo seemed to have given up on their verbal altercation and stalked off in opposite directions, muttering under their breaths. Abarai was heading for parts unknown, but Ichigo had veered toward Kisuke and Shinji.   
  
“What else do your sources tell you?” Shinji asked.   
  
Kisuke’s grin was mischievous and taunting. “That you and he have a lot of things in common,” he said, and then turned toward his approaching lover, effectively changing the subject. “Looking good, Ichigo.”   
  
The teen snorted, idly wiping drying blood from his forehead. “What were you and Shinji whispering about?” he asked, immediately suspicious and foregoing all pleasantries.   
  
Shinji rolled his eyes. “Well, hullo, nice to see ya too, Kurosaki. How’m I doin’ today? Why, fine and thank ya fer askin’. And you?” he said with a wide grin and a vague gesture of his hand that made Ichigo’s eyebrows twitch.   
  
“You two are plotting something, aren’t you?” Ichigo said, again ignoring the hint that he could stand to be a little polite somewhere in there. Shinji knew Masaki had raised him better, though goodness knew having Isshin as a father probably didn’t help matters.   
  
Kisuke’s lips drew into a mysterious grin, his fan appearing from the fourth dimension to hide his expression from his suspicious lover. “Why, Ichigo? Whatever gave you that idea?” he asked, accompanied with a guilty chuckle.   
  
Ichigo twitched again before turning abruptly away from both of them, stalking off with a burst of reiatsu. “Whatever it is, I want nothing to do with it,” he said, and then lower, muttering under his breath, “damn, mysterious blonds.”   
  
Kisuke chuckled and turned back toward Shinji. “Oh, he’s just pretending to be annoyed.”   
  
“I honestly don’t wanna know,” Shinji said, still not sure he understood the dynamics of the relationship between master and graduated student. Sometimes, he was certain Ichigo was going to kick Kisuke’s ass and be done with him. Other times, Shinji was convinced they were inseparable. Though he supposed that came with the territory when dating a man like Kisuke. Shinji should know, after all. He’d been there, done that, bought the ratty old t-shirt still stuck in the bottom of his closet.   
  
The fan disappeared, vanishing back to the mysterious fourth dimension, and a smile curved Kisuke’s lips. “Not even if it means a chance to get into Abarai’s hakama?”  
  
“I think I manage that on my own,” Shinji said with an imperious sniff. “So you’ll be invitin’ me to dinner, won’t you?”   
  
“I even think Abarai’s stayin’, too,” Kisuke replied slyly.   
  
The two blonds laughed.   
  
A plot was born.   
  


o0o0o

  
  
“Does he always do that?”   
  
Ichigo, in the midst of stripping out of his shihakushou, scowled. “Does who do what?”   
  
Twisting his jaw, Renji pulled his hair into a loose bun on top of his head. He’d have to wash it properly later. “Hirako,” he said. “Does he always jes pop up outta nowhere?”  
  
“How should I know? It’s not like I live here,” the Vizard said, and dropped down into the heated water with a mild splash, instantly burying himself up to his neck in the healing spring.   
  
Renji’s brows shot toward his hairline. “Don’t ya?” he retorted with a grunt, fidgeting in the water as the minerals washed over his healing cuts. “I’m surprised Urahara-san hasn’t forced ya to move in.”   
  
The teen’s face reddened, though to be fair, Ichigo wouldn't be a teenager for much longer. “Yeah, well, there’s a complication in that.”   
  
“Yer dad?”   
  
Ichigo didn’t answer, splashing water over his flushed face and wiping away the blood and dirt gathered there. It was all the answer Renji needed, really.   
  
Renji snorted. “Figures,” he said, and leaned back against the rim of the spring.   
  
He closed his eyes, soaking up the heat, letting it wrap around his aching muscles and his bruised limbs. Ichigo never held back, which was a good thing, but often left him sore all over. Which meant he should sleep really well tonight. Or, to be honest, as well as could be expected when under constant threat of one of Urahara-san’s usual pranks. That man was a complete sadist.   
  
Then again, he also had the most unusual taste in friends. Renji felt his cheeks heat as he remembered colliding with Hirako-san. That had been embarrassing. Renji could have sworn that the Vizard had felt him up too, but then again, Renji could have been mistaken. They had landed in a tangle after all.   
  
… Right?  
  
“Oy?”   
  
Ichigo cracked open one eye. “What?”   
  
“Hirako,” Renji began, wondering how to say this without sounding like an idiot. “Is he always so… touchy-feely?”   
  
Ichigo blinked. “What in the hell are you talking about?”   
  
“Che. Nevermind,” Renji muttered, and scrubbed a hand over his cheek, turning to climb out of the healing spring.   
  
He was probably just imagining things anyway. There was no reason to think Hirako had… groped him of all things.   
  
“Whatever,” Ichigo said and went back to splashing around in the healing spring, dunking his head under the water. “You’re staying for dinner, aren’t you, Freeloader-san?” The edge of Ichigo’s lips curled into an irritating smirk.   
  
Renji rolled his eyes. “Hey, I haven’t freeloaded in a long time!” he said, pulling on his tattered shihakushou. It would be enough until he got upstairs and could borrow something clean from Tessai-san, who was the closest to him in size.   
  
Ichigo just laughed. “But you are staying for dinner, right?”   
  
Without dignifying that with an answer, Renji burst toward the ladder in a flit of shunpo, Ichigo’s laughter following him the entire time. Damn bastard just _had_ to grow a funny bone after the war, didn’t he?   
  
Climbing up into the shoten, Renji had a lingering thought that maybe he should forego dinner this time, if Hirako was going to be in attendance. There was something about the blond Vizard that set him on edge. To be fair, Hirako was stronger than him – Renji wouldn’t mind sparring with the guy one day. And he was attractive, but also weird. Just like Urahara-san. They were two Shinigami in a shihakushou, that was for sure. A pair of blond bookends trading seductive secrets.   
  
Renji sighed, scrubbing a hand through his tangled hair. He was acting like an idiot. Hirako was just a crazy Vizard and Renji wasn’t going to be intimidated by him. Not at all. He was going to eat his dinner, stay the night, and find some way to enjoy his vacation in the morning. No reason to change his mind just because of one crazy blond.   
  
Nope. No reason at all.   
  


* * *

 


	2. Chapter 2

Abarai had opted for a braid. Shinj could hardly contain his glee at the sight, like the redhead was all but begging for Shinji to make use of it. Crimson was an excellent color on the vice-captain. It matched well with the white dress shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows and allowing those gorgeous tattoos. Abarai had also chosen a pair of well-fitting jeans that clung to his long legs in all the right places.   
  
If Shinji hadn't had better control of himself, he would have already started drooling.   
  
“So,” Kisuke said, merrily starting conversation now that dinner had been served and they were all arranged around the table, the delicious smells making Shinji's mouth water. “Fill us in on what Soul Society's been up to, Abarai-kun.”   
  
The redhead scowled, looking distinctly uncomfortable where he sat across from Shinji. “It's not like ya don't know already.”   
  
“Well, perhaps I want to hear you say it. My spies don't know _everything_ ,” Kisuke drawled.   
  
“Mah, Kisuke, who wants to hear about business?” Shinji interrupted with a sly grin. “We should talk about something much more interesting.”   
  
Ichigo coughed all of a sudden as though he had choked on his bite of rice. There was a rich redness to his face. Shinji wondered if Kisuke had already gotten to him.   
  
“I don't think your idea of interesting is suitable for dinner conversation,” Ichigo said, promptly shoving a portion of rice into his mouth and chewing heartily.   
  
Shinji gasped with mock hurt. “Why, Ichigo,” he said, batting his eyes innocently. “I don't know what you mean.”  
  
Abarai snorted, reaching for his glass of water. “I think I've a pretty good idea,” he said, sharing a pointed look with his friend.   
  
“Now, now, Abarai-kun,” Kisuke said warningly, shaking his finger at the redhead as though he were chastising a small child. “Shinji is my guest. The freeloader shouldn't have anything to say.”   
  
Abarai reddened, though Shinji couldn't tell if it was from embarrassment or anger. Either way, Shinji quite enjoyed the way the flush in his cheeks complimented the shade of his hair. Shinji wondered if he'd redden in the same way if he were aroused. Maybe that lovely flush would carry elsewhere.   
  
He couldn't wait to find out.   
  
“Is that an invitation for me to continue, then?” Shinji asked, swallowing down his glee and pretending to behave. At least for the moment.   
  
Kisuke inclined his head, a mischievous grin tugging at the corner of his lips. “Well, since you're not interested in Shinigami business, then we'll just have to talk about something else.”   
  
“Like what?” Ichigo managed to sound both wary and suspicious.   
  
Abarai, for his part, seemed deathly focused on his meal, every now and again shooting Kisuke annoyed, sulking looks. They were quite cute, Shinji thought. Abarai was way too old to be pouting like that, but still, it was cute.   
  
“How's classes?” Shinji asked, just to cut them all a break. Besides, he could save the really gritty and embarrassing stuff for later. Catch them when they were off guard. There was nothing quite so amusing as watching Ichigo splutter and turn red.   
  
Ichigo grunted. “Boring,” he said, chewing thoughtfully. “But the good kind of boring.”   
  
“Good kind? I didn't know such a thing existed,” Shinji retorted, lifting a brow. “Ya mean ta say ya _don't_ miss fighting off hordes of Hollow every day?”   
  
“Sometimes boring is good,” Kisuke replied, but there was an edge to his voice as he caught Shinji's eye.   
  
Shinji snorted. “Boring is _boring_.”   
  
“Which is why you're here causing trouble?” Ichigo asked, giving him a pointed look.   
  
Shinji held up his hands, just to prove his innocence. “I've not done anything yet. I was innocently visiting when you two decided to try and take me out.”   
  
“That was an accident,” Abarai reminded him. “'Sides, that was Ichigo's fault.”   
  
“It's not my fault you couldn't watch where you were going!”   
  
“I was following you, bastard!”   
  
They were such good friends. Really.   
  
Kisuke chuckled and glanced at Shinji around the two arguing hotheads who were trading barbs about something that happened two years ago. “So,” he said with a noticeable drag on the single syllable. “Still thinking about sticking around?”   
  
Shinji sat back in his chair, making himself comfortable as he idly brushed a piece of stray rice from his lips. “Oh, I thought I'd hang out for a week or so. You've got the space, don't ya?”   
  
There was a sudden thump of a knee striking the table. “What? A _week_?” Ichigo demanded, somehow managing to hear their conversation over his heated discussion with Abarai.   
  
Chuckling, Shinji idly examined his perfectly trimmed fingernails. “Why, Ichigo, I'm hurt. One would think you didn't like me visitin'.”   
  
“It's not at the top of my list of enjoyable things, no,” Ichigo gritted out, eyebrow twitching as though he and Byakuya-kun had suddenly traded levels of bitchiness. “Don't you have things you need to be doing or something?”  
  
“No. Why? Am I going to cut into your snuggle time with Ki-chan here?”   
  
Ichigo turned the color of an overripe tomato as Kisuke disappeared behind his fan with an amused chuckle. Abarai, for his part, stuffed his mouth with a bite of rice and tried to pretend he was blind and deaf and not a part of this conversation _at all_. Poor thing. He had no idea of Shinji's plans, did he?   
  
Shinji leaned forward and placed his elbows on the table, lacing them together. It was time to up the ante. “Have you guys even experimented yet? I _know_ Ki-chan likes handcuffs.”   
  
There was a moment where his words hung in the air with obvious tease, before Abarai started choking on his food and Ichigo looked about two seconds away from leaping across the table to throttle Shinji personally. Kisuke was too amused to be of much help, laughing behind his fan. Ichigo shot him a look and Shinji just knew that Kisuke would be paying for this amusement later.   
  
“And other things as well,” Kisuke said mischievously, winking at Shinji. “But I've nothing on your depravities, Shin-chan.”   
  
Shinji tossed his head flippantly. “I'm merely honest in my wants. Don't tell me you wrap Ichigo here in a plastic bubble. Unless that's your taste, of course.”   
  
Abarai's face turned scarlet. “I need some air,” he said and suddenly rose from the table, fleeing from the room as though his ass were on fire.   
  
Hmm. Now _there_ was an image. Shinji could just imagine how it got that way, too. Bent over the bed, buttocks scarlet, with very obvious handprints on them. Begging and crying for more, flesh a contrast to the dark lines of those tattoos. Amber eyes gleaming with need and defiance, lips reddened and rough...  
  
Was it getting hot in here or was it just him?   
  
“Shinji!”   
  
He blinked out of his daydream and turned an innocent look onto his gracious host. “What?” Shinji asked, batting his eyes.   
  
Kisuke looked amused; Ichigo looked torn between humiliation and anger. “Lost in a daydream, were we?”   
  
The corner of Shinji's lips curled with amusement. “Just a lovely image that I'll keep to myself, thank you very much.”   
  
Ichigo made a sound, a cross between a growl and a noise of disgust. “You two are impossible,” he said, and got up from the table, too. “I'll let the perverts have some time to themselves.”   
  
“Find poor Abarai and make sure he's okay, will you?” Kisuke called after him mischievously.   
  
Ichigo rolled his eyes, waving a hand over his shoulder. “He's fine. This can't be the first time he's had to listen to that sort of thing. His best friend's Hisagi, remember?”   
  
Shinji lifted a brow. “Hisagi? As in, Kensei's fan boy?”   
  
“The one and the same,” Kisuke replied with a grin, fan closing with a loud snap. “Don't let his reaction fool you. Abarai's as twisted as they come.”   
  
“How twisted?” Shinji's creative mind decided to provide several erotic images, all of which made him hot under the collar and his black slacks just a little too tight. Coming to visit Ki-chan in his shoten had turned out to be a good idea after all.   
  
Kisuke rose from his seat, their abandoned meal cooling on the table. “I think I'll let you figure that out for yourself. As for me, I'm going to track down my errant lover.”   
  
“Ya never did answer me, ya know,” Shinji said, planting his chin on his knuckles as he looked at his former lover. “Have ya managed to introduce Ichigo to the chocolate side of things or what?”   
  
A familiar teasing glint appeared in gray-green eyes. “I don't kiss and tell,” Kisuke said, touching a finger to the brim of his hat. “See you in the morning, Shinji. Good luck.”   
  
“I have skill, which trumps luck in all instances,” Shinji retorted confidently.   
  
Kisuke laughed. “But Abarai is a stubborn creature. Much like Ichigo. And we all know how long it took to woo him.”   
  
Many, many amusing months, if Shinji recalled correctly. He had endured Kisuke's drunken confessions and moans about Ichigo's general lack of comprehension. It had taken months for Ichigo to realize that his former master was panting after him, and then even longer for him to understand that it wasn't just lust. Now they were a couple of love-sick idiots and Shinji couldn't help teasing them. It was too much fun.   
  
“Don't underestimate me, Kisuke. I have no intention of treating Abarai with kiddie gloves like you do Ichigo.” He grinned, knowing it resembled the toothy grin of a shark. “In fact, I'm pretty sure he'd like rougher handling than that.”   
  
Kisuke rolled his eyes and waved a flippant hand over his shoulder. “Like I said, good luck with that. Something tells me I'll be the one to have the last laugh, though.”   
  
He was gone before Shinji could form a proper retort. Not that he needed to. Future events would prove his own boasts after all.   
  
In a good mood, Shinji proceeded to dive into the dinner Tessai-san had carefully prepared for them. It would be a shame to let it go to waste. Besides, he'd need to keep up his energy, wouldn't he?  
  


o0o0o

  
  
It was a little chilly outside, but Renji didn't mind. In fact, he welcomed the cold. It helped combat the heat in his cheeks and the flush of... well, he couldn't call it embarrassment or anger since it wasn't either. He wasn't sure what to name it. Hell, it wasn't like this was the first time anyone'd talked sex around him.   
  
Just... generally it was people he knew on a closer basis rather than the strangers he and Hirako were. Besides, Ichigo was pretty damn embarrassed enough for the both of them. Poor kid. Well, that was what he got for hooking up with a pervert like Urahara-san. Renji'd bet a month's wages that they probably did have a box of toys or some such in the closet. He wouldn't put it past Urahara-san.  
  
Either way, Renji had only sought a breath of fresh air because Hirako's openly lustful looks were getting more and more obvious and Renji couldn't decide if he were embarrassed or aroused by them. The man was hot, Renji had to give him that, but there was a dangerous glint to his eyes, too. 'Sides, Renji hadn't come here to start some torrid love affair with a Vizard.   
  
He paused, brow crinkling.   
  
Why had he come here, again? To spar a bit with Ichigo, yeah. To escape from Soul Society? Maybe a little. Okay, so there wasn't any real purpose why he was here. It stood to reason that he could indulge if he wanted to.   
  
_If_ being the operative word here.   
  
The wind rose again, damp and chill, reminding Renji that his dress shirt was not nearly as thick as a shihakushou. The skin on his arms prickled and he fought down a shiver. Time to go back inside, consider the rest of his dinner, maybe even raid Urahara-san's kitchens for a bottle of the good stuff that he knew the perverted shopkeeper kept stashing in random cupboards.   
  
Renji turned back toward the porch and the back door, climbed onto the wooden deck and reached for the swinging door. However, before he could so much as push it open, it swung open in front of him, nearly putting him off balance. He stumbled inside, caught himself, and then growled in annoyance, one suspect at the top of his list.   
  
“Not funny, Ichi-- oh. It's you.”   
  
Not Ichigo, in fact, but Hirako Shinji. Grinning at him as though this were an everyday occurrence. As though he were a cat standing in front of a trapped, flightless canary.   
  
“My Abarai-kun, that tone of voice... you'd think I'd done something _untoward_ ,” Hirako drawled, his eyes raking Renji from head to toe, making him feel he might as well be naked for all the clothes he's wearing.   
  
Renji attempted to edge around the Vizard and step back into the shoten. “Not yet, but I'll bet you're plannin' to.”   
  
An arm appeared in front of him, stretching across the hall and blocking Renji's path. The door slammed shut, effectively trapping Renji between the door and Hirako. The latter of whom was grinning at Renji.   
  
He chuckled. “Do I look that dangerous?”   
  
_Yes_. Renji's instincts wanted to scream the answer, but his pride wouldn't let him. Hirako might be able to kick his ass from one end of Karakura to the other, but Renji refused to give in or back down. For a man several inches shorter than Renji, Hirako had a rather intimidating aura.   
  
“Depends on what you mean by danger,” Renji said, because if Hirako was going to openly tease him, then Renji had better give as good as he got, or he'd be in a world of humiliation. 'Sides, it wasn't like it was a trial or anything. Hirako was hot.   
  
The corner of Hirako's mouth curved upward, his eyes glittering with some unnameable desire, and Renji had never been more conscious of their proximity. “I'm not going ta eat ya if that's what yer worried about,” Hirako said.   
  
“The thought never even crossed my mind,” Renji lied easily enough. He could already feel the heat crawling up his neck, threatening to invade his face. This close, Hirako's scent crowded his nose, smelling like thunderstorms and metal and burnt popcorn. No, Renji didn't know why the Vizard smelled like burnt popcorn, but for once it wasn't an unpleasant odor. Just sharp and unforgettable.   
  
“Maybe ya were expectin' somethin' else then,” Hirako said, his voice practically a sultry purr as he leaned closer, brown eyes dark and wicked.  
  
Renji knew he was walking into a trap, but he couldn't stop himself anyway. Maybe it was curiosity. Maybe it was the fact he hadn't gotten laid since Muguruma-san came back to Soul Society and whisked Hisagi-senpai out from under Renji's nose. And it didn't help that Urahara-san and Ichigo tended to flirt where anyone and their brother could see, taunting people with the pretty picture they made together, one meant to be watched but not touched. Or maybe he just really was the idiot everyone says he was.   
  
Either way, he licked he lips and asked, “Like what?” Knowing full well what was probably coming next.   
  
Hirako didn't disappoint either. He laughed all husky like and leaned forward, anticipation making his eyes dark, making Renji's breath catch. “Like this,” Hirako said, and closed the distance between them, sealing their mouths together in a kiss that was all hunger and desire. The sort that made Renji's gut twist with heat and his jeans a little tighter.   
  
His lips parted before he thought twice about it, and Hirako nipped at his lower lip, a sharp prick of teeth, before his tongue invited itself inside and--  
  
 _Holy shit!_   
  
Renji's blood drained south as he was reminded of something he'd forgotten. Namely, Hirako's tongue ring and the way it felt rubbing against Renji's tongue. All smooth metal and hot from his mouth. Renji imagined feeling that ring against his cock and a moan slipped into the kiss before he could stop it.   
  
He heard Hirako chuckle as he deepened the kiss, drawing them together in a warm press of hard bodies. One hand reached up, tangled fingers in the end of Renji's braid, and gave it a slow, steady tug. Nothing harsh and jarring, but just a reminder of what could be done with it later. A slow pull on his scalp that made his breath hitch.   
  
There was a thump as Renji's back hit the wall, not that it put any distance between them. Hirako just followed the motion until Renji was trapped between him and the wall, his thoughts spinning with Hirako's hot metal scent and closeness. His hand rose like it had a mind of its own, hooking an arm around Hirako's waist, pulling them closer together. He could feel Hirako's groin against his thigh, and the hard-on behind thin slacks.   
  
Renji groaned low in his throat, more growl than moan, as Hirako kissed him like he was desperate for it. Tongue claiming in sweeping swipes, teeth nipping at his lips. Tasting like their dinner and something else, something Renji couldn't quite identify. Not bad, but intriguing, like a spice.   
  
“Ahem.”   
  
The sound of someone clearing their throat echoed in the hallway and Renji separated from Hirako like he'd been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. His pants were way too tight and it felt like a current was running through his body, encouraging him to grab Hirako and finish what the teasing blond had started.   
  
Except that now they had an audience, one that looked far too amused for his own good.   
  
“Normally, I'd hate to interrupt such a pretty picture,” Urahara-san said, eyebrows lifted at both Renji and Hirako. “But there are young eyes in this house, so I'd appreciate it if you'd save the removal of clothes for the privacy of a bedroom, yes?”   
  
Renji just knew that his face was a serious shade of scarlet. “Sorry, Urahara-san,” he said, and slipped out from between Hirako and the wall, feeling a bit like a mangy mutt slinking off with its tail between its legs. “I'll keep that in mind.”   
  
“You do that,” Urahara-san replied, his tone full of humor and smugness. His eyes were concealed by the shadow of his hat, but Renji could still feel their intent stare between his shoulder blades as he hurried down the hall toward the room that had been made his own during his frequent visits.   
  
Behind him, he heard Urahara-san start in on Hirako. “And as for you, Shinji. I thought you knew better.”   
  
“Could ya blame me?” Hirako retorted, and that was the last Renji heard before he dove into his bedroom, closed the door and leaned against it, heart thumping a crazy rhythm in his chest.   
  
He was still hard. And when he swiped his tongue over his lips, he swore he could taste Hirako. Could still feel the titillating sensation of that ring pressing against his sensitive tongue.   
  
Renji groaned, knocking his head back against the wood. Man, he was so fucked.   
  


* * *

 


	3. Interlude One: Request for Aid

Kisuke was waiting for the perfect moment to pounce.   
  
Lounging on his bed, wearing little more than a thin nemaki loosely belted at the waist, Kisuke was pretending to read a book while watching the door with a hawk-eye. Ichigo was going to come through it at any moment and Kisuke had a plan. Well, to be honest, Shinji had a desire and because of it Kisuke had a plan. Poor Abarai-kun needed to get laid even if he didn't know it yet.   
  
It was win-win.   
  
But first, Kisuke needed a little help. And in order to get that help, he had to enact his plan. Waiting on Ichigo was the first step in said plan.   
  
The door opened and Ichigo stepped into the room, a towel loosely wrapped around his waist as he scrubbed another one over his hair. Kisuke licked his lips as Ichigo dried his hair, watching as streaks of water trailed down Ichigo's body, decorating his tanned skin. Kisuke's mouth watered, longing to trace the path with his tongue.   
  
The towel fell around Ichigo's shoulders. “See something you like?” he asked with rare humor, eyebrow arching.   
  
Kisuke tossed his book aside. He hadn't been interested in the first place. “You know that I do,” he said, eyes roaming over the mostly bared body across the room.   
  
Hipbones. Never in his life had Kisuke ever thought something like hipbones could be so erotic, but seeing them just above the band of towel on Ichigo's waist made Kisuke's innards tighten with desire.   
  
Ichigo snorted, flicking a hand through his damp, messy hair. “Pervert,” he accused, but it was more teasing than anything. A hint of red stained his cheeks.   
  
It never ceased to amaze Kisuke. Ichigo had shared his bed for the better part of a year, but his former student still blushed that enticing shade when it came to matters of lust. It would be a forever endearing trait.   
  
He lifted a hand, crooking a finger. “Aren't you going to join me?” Kisuke asked huskily, already planning to strip away that towel and quickly dispose of it. He imagined Ichigo stretched across his bed, completely nude with a hungry look in his brown eyes.   
  
Even better if Kisuke managed to include an item from his box of toys beneath the bed.   
  
“I'm not sure I should,” Ichigo replied, striding across the floor anyway, coming closer to the bed. “That look in your eyes never bodes well for me.”  
  
Kisuke feigned hurt. “Are you saying I leave you hanging? Are you accusing me of being a selfish lover?”  
  
Ichigo's ears turned a lovely shade of pink. “No,” he said. “I'm just saying – whoa!”  
  
Kisuke had hooked a hand in his towel and tugged, managing to both throw Ichigo off balance enough to pull him onto the bed, and loosen said towel so it could be tossed to the floor. Ichigo grunted as he fell across the bed and Kisuke chuckled, quickly pinning the Vizard beneath him, capturing wayward wrists in his fingers.   
  
“Caught you,” he said, one knee settling between Ichigo's thighs as he grinned rakishly down at his lover.   
  
Ichigo rolled his eyes. “I don't remember being chased,” he retorted, but he couldn't hide the lust starting to fill his gaze.   
  
“My dear, it is always a chase when it comes to you,” Kisuke teased, leaning down to nuzzle into Ichigo's throat, inhaling the scent of soap and the hot metal/sweet pine scent that always seemed to surround his Vizard lover. Come to think of it, Shinji had smelled like hot metal, too. Maybe it was a Vizard thing?  
  
Ichigo shivered beneath him, his cock beginning a slow rise against Kisuke's knee. “If I let you have your way, I'd never leave the bed,” he said and tilted his head back, giving Kisuke more room to work.   
  
His actions contradicted his words, as always. Quite adorable, his Ichigo was.   
  
Kisuke chuckled, nibbling at an exposed throat and feeling the beat of Ichigo's pulse against his lips. “Thoroughly debauched is the look that suits you best, I must agree.”  
  
He knew, without having to look, that Ichigo was rolling his eyes. “Pervert.”  
  
“You're repeating yourself,” Kisuke said, and transferred both of Ichigo's wrists to one grip.   
  
It was only a light hold, one that his younger and much stronger no doubt, though Kisuke would never admit so aloud lover could easily break. But it was more the illusion of being restrained than the actual shackles. Ichigo expended so much effort becoming a man who was strong and unbeatable that he enjoyed chances to surrender. And Kisuke quite enjoyed being that impetus.   
  
Ichigo's answer was a low groan and an enticing roll of his body, hips arching toward Kisuke's leg in search of friction. “And you're wasting too much time with conversation,” he retorted.   
  
“Perhaps my conversation has a point,” Kisuke suggested, his hand roaming to Ichigo's chest, rubbing a teasing palm over the flat discs of Ichigo's nipples.   
  
His lover shuddered, giving him a darkly seductive look. “A point?”  
  
“One might even say I'm asking for a favor,” Kisuke added, his hand sliding down to grasp Ichigo's hip, holding him in place for a steady, sizzling grind that made shivers dance down Kisuke's spine.   
  
Ichigo's eyes narrowed. “What sort of favor?” he asked, voice barely above a growl, his wrists twitching in Kisuke's hold.   
  
“It's not for me of course,” Kisuke quickly said, and his teeth traced an uneven path over Ichigo's collarbone, tongue flicking over sensitive skin. “It's on behalf of someone else.”  
  
Ichigo's lower half rocked upward to meet Kisuke's downward motions, so that they moved in perfect synchronization, hard cocks rubbing together. “Who?” The suspicion was obvious in Ichigo's voice.   
  
Kisuke lifted his head, meeting his lover's gaze. “Now, Ichigo, don't take that tone with me. I solemnly swear that no one is going to get hurt.”  
  
“You're definition of 'hurt' varies greatly from the rest of the world,” Ichigo countered, and his tongue swept over his lips, moistening them. “Now quit teasing and do something, bastard.”  
  
“But I've not asked my favor yet.”  
  
A low growl echoed in Ichigo's throat, skin flushing with arousal. “Then get it out already, damn it.”  
  
Kisuke chuckled to himself, loosing his hold on Ichigo's wrists to sit back and drag his hands down his lover's side. His fingers tickled over the faint outline of ribs and his hands cradled Ichigo's hips. An angry, flushed arousal came into view, and Kisuke scooted down lower, breathing warm air over Ichigo's cock. A strangled sound vibrated from Ichigo's throat.   
  
“A certain acquaintance of ours,” Kisuke began slowly, teasing Ichigo with his proximity and doing nothing more than puffing warm air over the leaking cock before him, “has his eyes on a certain prize, and would like our help or at least no interference from us in order to obtain said prize.”  
  
Ichigo made a noise that could have been confusion or perhaps general wariness. “What kind of help?”  
  
“Well, you just let me worry about that,” Kisuke replied, and his tongue flitted out, lapping briefly over the head of Ichigo's cock. “All I want to know is: are you in?” He closed his lips around the head, sucking gently and causing Ichigo to arch off the bed.   
  
The Vizard cried out, a mix of curses and Kisuke's name, immediately followed by a throaty groan. He licked his lips, one hand twisting in the covers, the other finding home in blond hair, giving it a sharp tug.   
  
“Who – ahh, gods – is the prize?” Ichigo demanded around a gasp as Kisuke took more of the thick length into his mouth, lips and tongue sliding skillfully down.   
  
Kisuke performed a lewd slurp that had Ichigo arching his back. He let Ichigo's cock slip from his mouth. “Abarai-kun,” he replied, licking his lips as he crawled back up Ichigo's body, wanting a taste of Ichigo's mouth.   
  
Ichigo, predictably, turned red, though his hips bucked up in search of a warm touch. “ _Renji_?” he demanded, a mixture of shock and outrage. “You can't be ser--”  
  
They kissed, tongues tangling together and Kisuke's hand slipped above Ichigo, diving under the pillow for one of the many stashes of lube he had all over the place. He'd long since learned to keep them available, because one never knew when the opportunity might arise to bend one's lover over the nearest piece of furniture.   
  
“Oh, but I am,” Kisuke said as he nibbled at a strong jawline and wandered beyond it, tonguing at Ichigo's ear, which never failed to make his younger lover breathe a little faster. His hand returned triumphant with the lube and Kisuke sat back on his heels, taking a moment to enjoy the sight splayed out in front of him.   
  
Ichigo flushed, starting to sweat a little. Hard and wanting. Eyes dark with desire and surprise. Lips wet from being kissed. He looked steps away from debauched, and Kisuke couldn't wait to finish what he'd started.   
  
“You're talking about Shinji, aren't you?” Ichigo demanded, failing to lose his bluster even when aroused to the point of leaking. “Damn it! Now I've got images!”  
  
Kisuke chuckled and squirted lube over his hands. One went for Ichigo's cock, giving it a light tug that made Ichigo's body twist erotically. The other went lower, two fingers circling Ichigo's muscled ring before plunging inside.   
  
“They can't be bad images,” Kisuke surmised aloud, watching as Ichigo gripped the blanket, twisting it in his fingers. He was starting to pant now, skin flushing a wonderfully aroused color. “They are both good-looking men.” He let go of Ichigo's cock, much to the Vizard's annoyance, but only long enough for Kisuke to slick himself. He was so hard he was leaking; Ichigo just had that effect on him.   
  
“Well, yeah, but fuck! it's Renji!” Ichigo argued and then moaned as Kisuke curled his fingers, rubbing them over the place that surely made Ichigo see stars. “Gah, stop teasing and fuck me already!”  
  
Kisuke clucked his tongue, both hands settling on Ichigo's hips as he positioned himself. “Such a foul mouth. I know you were raised better than that.”  
  
“We are _not_ talking about my parents right now.”  
  
“Of course not. It would hardly be appropriate,” Kisuke replied cheerfully and started pushing slowly, a gasp escaping his lips as he slid into Ichigo's tight heat, muscles clenching around his shaft.   
  
Ichigo moaned lowly. “Like you have any idea what's appropriate,” he retorted on the end of a gasp.   
  
“Mah, Ichigo, I'm hurt.” Kisuke sucked in a breath, his fingers flexing on Ichigo's hips. “I thought you loved me.”  
  
“I'd love you a lot more if you'd just _move_!”  
  
“Your wish is my command.”  
  
So Kisuke did, pulling out slowly and then thrusting back in, a little faster, a little harder. Each motion driving a noise from Ichigo's lips that only increased Kisuke's arousal. He could already feel the heat rising in the room, the sweat starting to trickle down his back. His insides twisted with need and watching Ichigo only made that worse.   
  
Reserved at first, Ichigo had finally learned to let himself go. To ask or demand things, to take matters into his own hands. And there was nothing that turned Kisuke on more than to watch Ichigo go after what he wanted. To be the focus of that determination... Kisuke shivered. It was damned erotic stuff.   
  
Ichigo rocked up to meet each thrust and Kisuke drove into him harder and harder until Ichigo reached up, bracing himself against the wall to push down against Kisuke. The bed better suited for playtime than a mere futon creaked ominously, but it wouldn't be the first time it had to stand under such an onslaught.   
  
“Touch yourself,” Kisuke gasped, wanting to see it so badly. To watch Ichigo wrap fingers around his cock and _pull_. “Let me watch.”  
  
“Pervert,” Ichigo accused, eyes half-lidded and drenched with desire. Sweat coating his hairline, dripping down the side of his face.   
  
But he did it anyway. Left one hand to brace himself and lifted the other to his mouth. In front of Kisuke's eyes he licked his palm, long and wet laps of his tongue that went straight to Kisuke's groin with shocks of electricity. With the slick Kisuke used earlier, it wasn't necessary, but he'd be damned if he'd tell Ichigo that. It was too erotic to watch.   
  
Ichigo pulled his hand away from his mouth, licking his lips erotically, and then reached downward. “Like this?” he asked in a husky voice, knowing good and well that Kisuke was watching him like a hawk.  
  
Spit-slick fingers wrapped around his cock and started a slow, steady stroke. Kisuke groaned, his hips snapping forward as he slammed into Ichigo.   
  
“You're killing me,” he complained, but he didn't stop watching as Ichigo worked himself with skilled twists of his hand, fingers teasing at the leaking head of his cock.   
  
Ichigo's tongue swept over his lips. “You asked for it,” he said, and followed his taunt with a groan of pleasure. Muscles rippled around Kisuke's cock, dragging him down a path of absolute bliss.   
  
All retorts died on the tip of Kisuke's tongue as his insides twisted and fire sparked through his veins. It was one, maybe two more thrusts, and he moaned as he was pulled into a climax, spilling himself inside Ichigo. He sucked in a breath, surrendering to sensation, and quickly added his fingers to Ichigo's, their combined grip rapidly bringing Ichigo to a fast release.   
  
Grinning, Kisuke shifted until he slid out of Ichigo and then leaned forward, bringing their lips together for a wet kiss. His heart was beating rapidly in his chest as he sucked on Ichigo's lower lip.   
  
“What do you say?” Kisuke asked against Ichigo's lips, his hand creeping across Ichigo's abdomen as he considered round two. “You going to help me with that favor?”  
  
Ichigo grabbed his hand by the wrist, forcing Kisuke to meet his eyes. “I guess that's what all that stuff at dinner meant.”  
  
“In a way.” Kisuke chuckled and nuzzled into Ichigo's throat, breathing deeply of his lover's familiar scent. “And you know poor Abarai-kun is going through a terrible dry spell.”  
  
“We're not cupid.”  
  
“No. We're more like... wish fairies.”  
  
Ichigo made a disgusted face and then burst into laughter. “Don't you ever say that again. That's just... no. Don't do it.” He shook his head and then sighed. “But yeah, okay, whatever. I won't get in the way.”  
  
Kisuke raised a brow. “But you're not going to help?”  
  
The grip on Kisuke's wrist tightened, dragging his hand up toward Ichigo's lips. “Do I look like I care about Renji's sex life?” he asked, tongue slipping out to dart against Kisuke's come-covered finger.   
  
Kisuke's breath hitched. “What's your point?”  
  
“I'd rather you worry more about what I'm going to do next,” Ichigo replied, and his tongue traced the length of Kisuke's finger. “I won't get in your way, but if you need someone to push them in a closet and lock the door, it's not going to be me.”  
  
Kisuke laughed. “You know,” he said thoughtfully. “That's not actually a bad ide – whoa!”  
  
It was his turn to be startled as Ichigo suddenly surged upward and exchanged their positions as though it were the easiest thing to do. “Now,” Ichigo said, with dark intent in his eyes as he nudged a knee between Kisuke's legs. “It's my turn to ask for a favor.”  
  
Kisuke could hardly contain his glee, and all thoughts of Shinji and Abarai-kun floated neatly from his mind.   
  


* * *


	4. Chapter 4

It was an hour after Renji changed into a pair of loose sweatpants, re-braided his hair, and laid out his futon that he heard them. It wasn't the first time he'd bore an auditory witness to Urahara-san and Ichigo through the thin walls, but there was something different about it tonight. Probably because he was already keyed up over Hirako's kiss and groping. His mind was already steering down pervert central.   
  
So when the first audible groan floated through the walls, straight to his ears, Renji cursed and threw his arm over his eyes. No way was he getting to sleep now.   
  
He heard a thump, a muffled curse. Another groan, followed by a moan. A rhythmic noise. And he could just imagine what was happening on the other side of the wall. From the sound of things, Ichigo was the one pinned down. But Renji knew, entirely accidentally of course, that they went both ways.   
  
In fact, Urahara-san tended to be the loudest. It was like he did it on purpose or something.   
  
Annoyed, Renji curled on his side and shoved his hand beneath the covers, reaching beneath his borrowed nemaki for the half-arousal already growing. He'd get no rest otherwise. It wouldn't go away on its own and the sounds floating to his ears were enough to make his imagination go into overdrive.   
  
Damn, horny bastards.   
  
Moans turned his half-arousal into full rigidity and Renji curled his fingers around his cock, giving it long and slow pulls. He closed his eyes, listening, able to imagine what must be happening on the other side of the walls. Urahara-san pushing into Ichigo, the teen all flushed and sweaty and _hot_.   
  
Ichigo was his friend, yeah, and an annoying bastard to boot, but he was damn hot. Same with Urahara-san. Renji was allowed to fantasize, right? Look but don't touch.   
  
Breath faltering, Renji pushed into the tunnel of his fist, leaking all over the damn place. But that made it better, slicker, and he licked his lips. Remembered the feel of Hirako pressed against him, tongue demanding and relentless. Renji groaned quietly, unintentionally echoing the loud moan that came through the walls.   
  
Fantasizing about Urahara-san and Ichigo was one thing. Remembering a very real encounter was another.   
  
Hirako, for all his craziness, was hot as hell, too. And he knew how to kiss. Renji had thoroughly enjoyed that short encounter, the feel of Hirako's lips against his. The strange sensation of the metal ring as it massaged against Renji's tongue.   
  
He wondered how it would feel lower, what that smooth piece of metal would feel like rubbing against his cock. Renji licked his lips at the thought and stroked a little faster. Hirako had a wicked tongue. He could probably take Renji deep, too, all the way down into his throat. Slick muscle massaging, eyes bright and wicked.   
  
Holy... Renji chewed on his bottom lip, hips pushing his cock into his fist. He could feel himself throbbing, the heat coiling tighter and tighter in his belly. He felt like a spring, ready to snap, and the continuous background noises were only helping. The words were indistinguishable, but moans were more than enough.   
  
Better than noises, however, were images. And Renji had plenty to work with. He had only to draw on real-life experience. Most notably, the taste of Hirako on his tongue and the feel of the Vizard's body pressed to his. Hirako was a bit smaller than him, but had a presence that made him much larger.   
  
His eyes were dark and full of sin, his voice husky and arousing. He kissed like he meant it, and Renji once again imagined that metal-studded tongue on his cock.   
  
His spine tingled at the thought. Renji groaned, thrusting into his palm, the sound echoing in the quiet room, along with the noise of his heavy breathing.   
  
He imagined it wasn't his hands on his cock, but Hirako's. That the Vizard was pressed against him, fingers stroking, his mouth clamped on Renji's ear where he was sensitive. He imagined that he was surrounded by Hirako's unique scent, that teeth buried themselves in the juncture of Renji's neck and shoulder, an edge of pain to go with the pleasure.   
  
A noise rose up from the next room and Renji's self-control had never been the best. He shoved his knuckles against his mouth, bit down, and shuddered as he came, covering his fingers with his own seed. He panted, body twitching with pleasure, struggling to calm his breathing.   
  
On the other side of the wall, he could hear Urahara-san and Ichigo finishing up, like they were taunting him. If he weren't so sated, he might have gotten annoyed with that. Instead, Renji rolled his eyes and dug around in the laundry for a dirty shirt to wipe off his hand. He also righted the blankets and crawled back into them, body nice and languid.   
  
Well, he had to give the lovebirds credit. They did inadvertently help him exhaust himself enough to sleep. And sleep Renji did.   
  


o0o0o

  
The next morning, Renji woke drowsy, but well-rested. He really did sleep better on the tail end of an orgasm. Too bad those were few and far between, unless wrung from his own hands. It was the sort of thing that made him consider the advances a certain blond Vizard was making.   
  
Jaw cracking from a yawn, Renji got out of bed, tidied up his futon, pulled on some clean clothes and splashed cold water on his face. He brushed his hair free of tangles and pulled it into the usual high ponytail. It was just easier that way. He didn't care how girly Ichigo claimed it looked.   
  
His stomach growled, reminding him that not only was it time for breakfast, but he'd walked out on half his dinner the night before. Stolen bites in the middle of the night weren't nearly enough to satisfy him. To the kitchen it was.   
  
This early, streams of sunlight beamed through every uncovered window. There was a faint chill to the air, but Renji ignored it. By all rights, he should still be in bed, sleeping the day away. He was on vacation after all. But, as he'd come to learn the hard way, it was never a good idea to sleep in while staying at the shoten. Urahara-san tended to get ideas. No, it was far safer for Renji to rise earlier and make himself scarce before Urahara-san decided that an able-bodied Shinigami on the premises meant there was free labor at hand.   
  
Biting back a shudder, Renji headed for the kitchen where he was sure Tessai was cooking up something for breakfast. If he wasn't, Renji would take a quick bath and skedaddle, finding something to eat outside the shoten and beyond Urahara-san's devilish reach.   
  
Decision made, Renji walked into the kitchen, expecting a lot of people to be crowded around the table. However, he was mistaken. Only Urahara-san sat at the table, idly eating a bowl of rice as he pondered some missive from Soul Society – Renji recognized the symbols on the back of the paper. Not even Tessai was present, though the table itself had already been laden with food. Renji dearly hoped that Urahara-san wasn't the one to make it. Genius though he might be, he couldn't cook worth a damn.   
  
“Where is everyone?” Renji asked, plunking himself down at the table and helping himself to the various dishes that covered the wood surface. Judging by their good smells, they were Tessai's work. What a relief.   
  
Paper rustled as Urahara-san lowered it, looking over the edge at Renji. “Pardon?”   
  
“Thought Ichigo at least would be here,” Renji answered with a shrug, sometimes surprising himself with how comfortable he'd gotten in the shoten. Well, comfortable to a certain extent anyway. “Didn't think that brat would miss a meal for anything.”   
  
Urahara-san chuckled, returning his attention to his paper and his bowl of rice. “Ichigo left already. He has a class this morning.”   
  
“Class, huh?” Renji repeated and chewed thoughtfully on his own rice. “Thought he was done with all that.”   
  
“He only has a few more. Finals are at the end of the month.”   
  
Renji nodded. “Then what?”   
  
“I don't know. He hasn't decided yet,” Urahara-san answered, flipping to the next page in what appeared to be a very long letter. “Or if he has, he hasn't told me.”   
  
With Ichigo's absence explained, that left one other person who probably should have been at the table. Well, Ururu and Jinta, too, but Renji suspected they had been up an hour or so beforehand and were accomplishing whatever task Urahara-san had set them to.   
  
“... What about Hirako?” He tried to sound casual, but judging by the look on Urahara-san's face, he'd failed miserably.   
  
The shopkeeper snorted. “Knowing him? Probably still sleeping.” His lips twitched into a smile as he eyed Renji with curiosity. “Why?”   
  
Knowing that his face had to be burning, Renji scooped up a handful of onigiri and hastily rose to his feet. “No reason,” he said, fearing that he'd unintentionally given Urahara-san leave to question him without restraint. “I'm goin' to take a bath.”   
  
There was a noise that Renji swore was laughter at his expense, but when he looked, Urahara-san's face had schooled itself into innocence. “If you must. Just use the spring in the basement. I've got the kids scrubbing the bathroom from top to bottom right now.”   
  
That explained their absence at least. Renji nodded. “Gotcha.”   
  
He escaped before Urahara-san could add anything else, though he swore that the shopkeeper's amusement chased him out the door. Despite the covering provided by the hat, Renji was certain that Urahara-san's eyes were laughing at him. The damn blond was devious, that was for sure, just like a certain Vizard. Renji had better keep on his guard.   
  


o0o0o

  
In the end, the springs in the basement were a lot more comfortable than having to use the upstairs bathroom, and looking warily over his shoulder the entire time. The springs also had the added benefit of soothing aches and pains and any minor wounds that Renji might have suffered. Not only that, it was quiet downstairs, giving Renji more of a chance to relax.   
  
Belly pleasantly full of onigiri, he leaned against the edge of the springs, propped his arm on the sides and closed his eyes. Not to sleep, no, he didn't want to drown. But just to relax. Relaxing was good. He was on vacation, right? Relaxing was _necessary_.   
  
He closed his eyes, listened to the soft bubbling of the water, and tried not to think. In a week or so, he'd have to go back to Soul Society and the squabble of voices he'd left behind. But for now... for now he had only a couple of crazy Shinigami to worry about rather than several dozen.   
  
Footsteps crunched over dirt and stone. Renji's eyes snapped open, but he was still too slow to stop a hand from swooping down and snatching the tie from his hair. His hair fell loose over his shoulders, and fingers dragged briefly through it, before the perpetrator was gone.   
  
Renji whipped around in the water, glaring at the sneaky bastard. “You!” he growled, eyes narrowing in recognition. Of course it had to be Hirako. “Do you have any idea how long it takes this shit ta dry?” And now half his hair was wet. Great.   
  
“Actually, I do,” Hirako said and stood up completely, forcing Renji to lift his gaze even further. He turned around and gestured to a place just below his hips, hips that were barely covered by a small towel. “Used to have hair down ta here, ya know.”   
  
“Liar,” Renji said, but his mouth went a little dry at the unexpectedly sexy view that Hirako had given him. That towel barely covered anything, and it perfectly outlined the curves of the Vizard's ass. Along with the length of his long legs.   
  
Hirako turned back around, hands planted on his hips. “It's the truth. Just ask Kisuke,” he insisted and invited himself to join Renji in the springs. He perched on one of the many ledges, then shamelessly unhooked his towel from around his waist, choosing instead to drape it over his hair. “Yep, that's better.”   
  
Renji swallowed thickly, debating whether he should or shouldn't look. He settled for a relatively safe topic. “You and Urahara-san are close.”   
  
“Close is one word you could use,” Hirako drawled, propping his elbows on the edge, a stance that mimicked Renji's. “Former lovers are two others.”   
  
Renji's mind chose that moment to helpfully supply several drool-worthy images. Renji couldn't help it. He was just as much a pervert as the rest of them. And he wasn't kidding when he thought of the two as a pair of blond bookends. They were really similar in appearance. And he'd bet next month's wages that they were equally kinky. He could just imagine the sort of things that might happen behind their closed doors.   
  
Water sloshed and then Hirako was there, pressing his finger to Renji's cheek and completely invading his personal space. He liked to do that a lot. “What's this? You're blushing, Abarai-kun! What are ya thinking about?”   
  
Renji's pulse leapt and he patted the Vizard's hand way, less forcefully than he intended. “Nothin'.”   
  
“Liar,” Hirako accused, grinning like he'd stumbled on some secret. “You're picturin' me and Ki-chan, aren't ya?”   
  
“What makes ya say that?”   
  
Hirako chuckled and his hand settled on Renji's thigh beneath the water, making the Shinigami jump but not move away. “Oh, it's pretty damn obvious. Ya don't have to imagine it though. I'd be more 'n happy to give ya a demonstration.”   
  
Holy... Renji's brain went white, blood flowing southward. He tried to swallow but his mouth was too dry. Rational thought flew out of his ears. “You really don't pull any punches, do ya?” he asked as Hirako's hand crept upward, fingers teasing at the end of the towel that Renji had wrapped around his waist before entering the water.   
  
“Why should I?” Hirako asked, or purred rather, leaning closer with obvious intent. “It's obvious ya want me. And I'm of the mind of wanting ya, too.”   
  
Renji groaned, tongue sliding across his lips. Damn Hirako was right. And he was also leaning closer, pressed against Renji's side, hand slipping upward, under the tented towel, determined as it pushed toward Renij's cock.  
  
Why was he even bothering to fight this?   
  
Renji leaned forward and crashed his mouth against Hirako's with little charm or seduction involved. Why bother? Hirako had already made his intentions clear.   
  
Hirako made a startled sound before his free hand came up, cupping Renji's neck and taking control of the kiss. His tongue pushed into Renji's mouth, sweeping inside and laying claim, his tongue ring a delicious contrast. Renji growled in his throat and gave as good as he got, blood spiking with heat. Of course, it helped that Hirako's hand had finished its northward trek and was now dragging teasing fingers across Renji's cock.   
  
Hirako pulled back from the kiss, noticeably licking his lips. “Well,” he said approvingly. “You finally got with the program, Abarai-kun.”   
  
“Figured it saved time if I stopped pretendin' I didn't want it,” Renji replied, a shiver racing down his spine as Hirako's talented fingers continued to treat him right.   
  
“Really?” The syllables rolled of Hirako's tongue. “Then what do ya want?”   
  
Renji groaned at the promise in Hirako's voice, and he watched as that skilled tongue performed a quick sweep over Hirako's lips. He caught a glimpse of bright metal, and his gut tightened. In that moment, Renji knew what he wanted.   
  
He sucked in a breath.   
  
“Yer gonna have to say it,” Hirako said. “I'm not just gonna know.”   
  
Renji couldn't remember the last time he'd been actually shy, so when it came down to it, he figured the faster he asked, the faster he'd get to feel it. “Yer tongue ring,” he said, watching as Hirako's lips curved with amusement. “I want it on my cock.”   
  
The Vizard chuckled. “I figured as much,” he said, thumb sliding across the sensitive head of Renji's arousal. “But if I do that, I get to fuck ya.”   
  
“Deal,” Renji replied, maybe a bit too quickly, but he didn't care. Weeks of celibacy left him hungry for damn near anything.   
  
Hirako grinned, shark-like, and pulled back, removing his hand from Renji's leg, much to the Shinigami's displeasure. “Good,” the Vizard said and patted the edge of the springs. “So hop to it.”   
  
A little too eagerly, probably, Renji hauled himself out of the water and Hirako settled between his legs, hands smoothing up Renji's thigh. The little towel was quickly whisked away and tossed over Renji's shoulder. Brown eyes raked Renji from head to groin approvingly, making him feel like he'd been fucked with just a look.   
  
“ _Nice_ ,” Hirako said.   
  
Renji leaned back on his hands, trying not to feel self-conscious. “Would be nicer if ya did somethin' with that mouth _other_ than talk.”   
  
Laughing, Hirako leaned forward, breathing hot, moist air over the tip of Renji's cock. “You get aggressive when you're horny, doncha?” he said, and his hands dragged upward, thumbs stroking the crease between hip and thigh. It was unexpectedly erotic and Renji swallowed thickly, his heart pounding in his chest.   
  
“Who's been teasin' me for the past twenty-four hours?” Renji demanded.   
  
“Teasing? That was just my seduction,” Hirako replied. “I fully intend to deliver.”   
  
And then his mouth descended and Renji's brain went white. His fingers dug into the rocky ground as Hirako's mouth dragged up his cock, the metal of the piercing a noticeable drag against sensitive skin. Renji's breath left him in a whoosh and his hips jerked upward, pushing further into that wicked heat.   
  
Hirako laughed around his mouthful, and the vibrations traveled up Renji's cock, making him shudder. He groaned, breathing out a curse word, closing his eyes and giving up to sensation. He couldn't remember why he'd bothered resisting in the first place.   
  
A hand tickled between his legs, fingers deftly cupping Renji's scrotum and rolling the furred sacks around. Careful tugs highlighted the sensation of Hirako's tongue and lips as they worked Renji's cock. There was something to be said for centuries of experience and Renji was currently benefiting.   
  
All thoughts of showing off his stamina flew out the proverbial window. Renji didn't want to last, he just wanted to come. Fingers digging into rocky soil, he thrust his hips upward, and was rewarded with Hirako swallowing him down, nearly to the hilt. Renji all but shouted, bucking as he came, spilling down the Vizard's throat. He twitched as Hirako licked him through the tremors, swallowing every last drop.   
  
“Holy... hell...,” Renji panted, struggling to catch his breath as pleasure sparked through his veins.   
  
Hirako drew back with a lewd pop, licking his lips pointedly. “Speechless?” he asked teasingly, and grabbed Renji's arm, pulling his hand toward Hirako's noticeably aroused groin. “Time to return the favor.”   
  
Renji blinked. “But--”  
  
Smirking, Hirako pushed his arousal against Renji's hand. “I said I wanted ta fuck ya. I didn't say it had to be now.”   
  
Renji's eyebrow crawled into his hairline.   
  
“When I do you, I want ta take my time about it, not a rushed quickie,” Hirako explained, and the heat that flashed in his eyes made Renji squirm. “Anyone could show up right now and I didn't think exhibitionism was yer thing.”   
  
Feeling his face grow hot, Renji decided to hide his reaction by curling his fingers around Hirako's cock in a well-practiced motion. Hirako made things easier by rising up, so that their mouths could connect in a wet kiss. Renji could taste himself on the Vizard's tongue and something about that was weirdly erotic.   
  
Hirako pulsed in his grip, evidence that he wasn't entirely unaffected by giving Renji a blow job, and his fingers dug into Renji's thighs as he pressed closer. The kiss deepened, Hirako nipping at Renji's lips, one hand rising to tangle in damp red hair. Renji's hand worked with all the skill he could muster, giving occasional twists of his fist, thumb swiping over the leaking head.   
  
Hirako moaned against his lips, thrusting into Renji's fingers, body moving erotically. No wonder Renji hadn't bothered resisting. Hirako was sexy as hell and frankly, Renji couldn’t wait to take things further. But first... to finish things up now. Not that it was a loathsome task. On the contrary, he quite liked the bitten off cries of pleasure, the way Hirako's face flushed and his eyes darkened, the way he devoured Renji's mouth like it was his right.   
  
A shiver raced down Renij's spine. He liked it all. And when Hirako came seconds later, shuddering and panting, a curse on his lips, Renji liked it even more.   
  


* * *


	5. Interlude Two: Blast to the Past

  
Kisuke laughed as Shinji slammed him into the wall, their bodies colliding and tongues tangling. Shinji tasted like sake and candy and his tongue pushed wetly into Kisuke's mouth, trying to lay claim. The kiss was sloppy, considering that both of them were laughing like morons, stumbling unsteadily down the hall.   
  
“Key,” Kisuke asked against Shinji's lips, one hand inching across the wall toward the door to Shinji's room. His place didn't have young eyes like the shoten, thus the reason they met here as opposed to Kisuke's place.   
  
Shinji's lips left his, focusing on the hollow of his ear, breathing hotly and making Kisuke shiver. “Don't need one,” he said, his hand winnowing between their bodies to press a palm to the bulge in Kisuke's hakama.   
  
“You ought to lock it,” Kisuke said, reaching behind him and turning the knob, spilling the two blonds into the bedroom. “Hiyori's got sticky fingers.”   
  
Shinji laughed as they crashed to the ground and he landed on top of Kisuke with an oomph, not that it stopped their mad groping. “I know. S'why I put the really valuable things somewhere else.”   
  
That didn't make much sense to Kisuke, but whatever. He was more interested in the warm and willing body above him. He tangled one hand in Shinji's hair and dragged the Vizard down for a steamy kiss, their teeth knocking together and making both of them laugh. But even that quickly became a moan as Shinji shifted his hips just right, bringing their groins into contact.   
  
Kisuke moaned; Shinji all but whimpered.   
  
“Bed,” Kisuke gasped, because as much he'd like to go at it right there on the floor, they weren't getting any younger and rug burns just weren't as adventurous as they used to be.   
  
Shinji made a noise of agreement and they forced themselves to untangle, Shinji getting up first and hauling Kisuke to his feet. They swayed where they stood, Shinji drunkenly giggling of all things, and Kisuke got a good handful of Shinji's hair, dragging him in for another kiss. Their bodies collided as Shinji curled an arm around Kisuke's waist, pulling them together on purpose, his hips pushing against Kisuke's in a delicious, eager grind.   
  
Heat danced down Kisuke's spine as Shinji panted against his lips. If they weren't careful, then Kisuke was going to come right here, dirtying his clothes and putting an early end to things. He was too sloshed to try for a second round.   
  
Shinji's mouth wandered from his lips to his chin, nibbling a noticeable path. He breathed hot and heavy in Kisuke's ear, one hand sliding between them to dive under the edge of Kisuke's shirt and splay fingers over his abdomen. Kisuke hummed in appreciation, even more so when Shinji pushed his palm upward, fingers finding and twisting a nipple.   
  
Kisuke's back arched and he gasped, rocking his hips against Shinji's. He wanted more than this; there was too much clothing. He said as much, panting out the words as he licked his lips.   
  
Shinji sucked Kisuke's earlobe between his teeth, tonguing it mercilessly. “Then help me undress, partner,” he replied.   
  
“You'll have to let go of me for that to happen.”   
  
“Ya first.”   
  
Kisuke rolled his eyes. It was a wonder they accomplished anything, as stubborn as they were.   
  
He forced them apart and grabbed Shinji's shirt, tugging it over the Vizard's head. It was dropped carelessly to the ground as he reached for Shinji's belt and slacks. Desire gleamed in brown eyes as Shinji breathed heavily, reaching past Kisuke to grope at the shopkeeper's clothes as well. Their limbs tangled, creating more confusion than help, but at last, their clothes were a pile on the floor.   
  
Kisuke grabbed Shinji and they stumbled to the bed, the Vizard tripping on a stray sock at the last minute and crashing down with a noticeable bounce in the mattress. Kisuke raised an approving brow.   
  
“An actual mattress,” he said, bouncing them again just to get the full sensation. “This is new.”   
  
Shinji dragged a hand down Kisuke's bare back, blunt nails causing a visible score that made Kisuke shiver. “It's sturdier, yeah?” he replied and craned his neck upward, latching lips and tongue on Kisuke's bared throat.   
  
Straddling Shinji's hips, Kisuke found he rather liked their current position. He reached for Shinji's arms, sliding his hands up their length until his fingers encircled Shinji's wrists.   
  
“Sturdy is a good thing,” Kisuke murmured and grinned when he saw the neck tie that Shinji had carelessly slung over the headboard. Like begging for Kisuke to make use of it. And _hell yes_ , there was an idea.   
  
He leaned over Shinji to snatch up the neck tie and yelped when Shinji reached up with talented lips, latching them onto Kisuke's nipple. A buzz of heat rippled down Kisuke's spine as Shinji teased him with teeth and tongue, providing a pleasurable distraction. His hips danced a merry rhythm atop Shinji's and Kisuke forced himself back on track. He grabbed the tie, and had it wound about Shinji's wrists and the headboard within a matter of seconds. Success!  
  
“Oy, Kisuke. What th' hell are ya doin'?” Shinji asked, not sounding angry, just surprised as he gave a tug to his wrists, eyes rolling up to stare at Kisuke's handiwork.   
  
One hand slid under the pillow, grabbing the tube of lube that they always kept stashed there. Scooting back down, Kisuke let his hands drag down Shinji's side, his thumbs sweeping over Shinji's ribs. “What's it look like I'm doing?” he replied cheekily and let his hands wander lower, concentrating on a knobby hipbone that was practically calling to his mouth. He wanted to nibble on it.   
  
“Coulda asked first,” Shinji said, almost sulkily. But judging by the erection that kept bumping into Kisuke, he wasn't bothered by it.   
  
Shifting down further, until he settled between Shinji's legs and could let his mouth roam as he pleased, Kisuke grinned. “I figured it was easier to seek forgiveness – after a mind-blowing blowjob by the way – than to ask permission.”   
  
Besides, it was only fair. Shinji had the startling habit of whipping out all sorts of restraints on Kisuke without any warning whatsoever. He still had some lingering bruises on his ankles to prove it. Also, if Shinji so wished, he could snap the thin fabric of his necktie with a good jerk of his wrists.   
  
Lust darkened Shinji's eyes at the promise of a blow job and he pushed his hips toward Kisuke. “Then by all means,” he said huskily, sliding the inside of his leg against Kisuke's hips. “Hop to it.”   
  
Rolling his eyes, Kisuke set to it, first dragging his fingers down the rigid length and watching Shinji shiver. Such an erotic motion, really. He flicked his tongue over the leaking head, nibbled on the crown a bit, dragged his fingers down Shinji's legs, let his hand tease at Shinji's scrotum. He blew hot hair over the rigid shaft, rubbed his cheek against it, and nearly laughed when Shinji cried out in frustration.   
  
“No teasing!”   
  
Kisuke slipped one hand down low, finger teasing at Shinji's hidden ring. “I think I'm calling the shots now, don't you?” he asked, circling the puckered opening. “So be patient.”   
  
Shinji made a sound in his throat, cross between a growl and a groan, and his hips juttered upward again, pushing his cock toward Kisuke's lips. “Stubborn... grah!”   
  
Deciding to take pity on the bound Vizard, Kisuke lowered his mouth and slid Shinji's cock past his lips, the thick musk invading his senses. Shinji all but purred as Kisuke stroked his shaft with his tongue. His hips took up a subtle rocking motion as his cock leaked precome everywhere, slicking Kisuke's tongue.   
  
Mmm, this night was turning out so well.   
  
Mouth busy, Kisuke decided to occupy his fingers as well. He reclaimed the lube from where he'd tucked it against Shinji's side and used a generous amount – better too much than too little in his opinion. He swallowed Shinji's cock, and then slipped his fingers down lower, tracing the puckered muscle before pushing straight in, two at once.   
  
Shinji gasped, arched his back, but didn't complain. His cock pulsed in Kisuke's mouth as he rocked toward the dual stimulation, thighs threatening to clamp around Kisuke's upper body. Kisuke pushed his fingers into Shinji, crooked them just right, and was rewarded with a shudder and a murmured curse word.   
  
Smiling around the flesh in his mouth, Kisuke set up a counter-rhythm sure to drive Shinji wild. He withdrew his fingers as he sucked Shinji's cock into his mouth, then pulled back as he shoved his fingers inside. Precome quickly slicked his tongue, and Shinji throbbed in his mouth, body twisting beneath the onslaught of sensation.   
  
He looked up, watched Shinji's bound hands curl into fists. Watched his lover's face flush, and the way Shinji chewed on his bottom lip. Watched the sweat that beaded on Shinji's skin, and the way he was trying to hold back.   
  
Kisuke's own gut tightened, his cock dripping precome to the sheets. He was hard and he was hurting, too drunk to think about making things last and all that jazz. He let Shinji slide from his mouth with a wet pop and rose to his knees, reaching for the lube again.   
  
“What th-- Ya promised a blowjob!” Shinji protested, hips twisting and jutting upward as if to remind him of what he'd said.   
  
“I didn't say I'd finish you with one,” Kisuke replied, mouth curving into a smile as he quickly slicked up his cock and hooked his hands under Shinji's knees. He shifted forward, pressed the head of his cock to Shinji's puckered muscle and licked his lips in anticipation. “Unless you'd rather I stop?”   
  
The glare that Shinji tossed him could have melted glaciers. “When did ya turn into such a sadist?” he demanded, hips twitching as though trying to encourage Kisuke to enter him that much sooner.   
  
“Blame yourself,” Kisuke replied cheekily. “You started it.” He lowered his gaze, and his tone. “So what do you want?”   
  
Shinji worked his jaw, stubbornness battling with the need to come. “I'm not beggin'.”   
  
Kisuke thrust forward, just a little, rubbing the head of his cock over the sensitive ring but not pushing through it. “Really now?”   
  
The Vizard made a noise that shot straight to Kisuke's groin. Shinji gritted his teeth, balled his hands into fists. “Kisuke... this isn't funny.”   
  
“It's not a joke,” Kisuke replied innocently, biting back his smirk. Though, if Shinji didn't break soon, then Kisuke was going to. He could feel his pulse racing, his cock throbbing. He wanted to come just as badly. “Maybe I just want to hear you say it.”   
  
“I tell ya all the time!”   
  
“So say it right now.”   
  
Shinji let loose another growl of frustration.   
  
Kisuke rocked his hips forward, breaching the ring of muscle with just the head of his cock, and paused. Letting it sit there, Shinji's inner muscles fluttering around him, teasing him with heat and pressure. Kisuke sucked in a breath, told himself to be patient as his fingers flexed where they gripped the underside of Shinji's knees.   
  
“ _Kisuke_ ,” Shinji insisted, licking his lips slowly, a flash of metal calling to Kisuke, reminding him of Shinji's new addition.  
  
Kisuke twitched. “Tell me,” he said, determined to be more bull-headed than his lover. “What do you want, Shinji?”   
  
“Argh!” Shinji knocked his head back against the comforter. “You're goin' ta pay fer this, Kisuke, I swear ta all that is holy.”   
  
Kisuke leveled a look at his lover, circled his hips, pushed in and out of the tiny inch he'd gained. “ _Shinji_.”   
  
“Fine!” The older blond looked annoyed enough to spit bullets, but Kisuke knew that was just the arousal talking. “Fuck me, damn it! Isn't that what ya wanted ta hear? Fuck me. Bend me backward and fu-- gah!”   
  
He stopped Shinji's rant with a particularly sturdy thrust, driving himself in to the hilt all in one smooth push of his hips. Kisuke's thoughts stuttered to a halt as he was swallowed by blissful heat clenching down around his cock. He sucked air in through his teeth and tried not to come immediately.   
  
The headboard rattled warningly. “Kisuke, if ya don't--”  
  
“Give me a minute,” he replied through clenched teeth.   
  
A low breathy chuckle echoed in the room. “Too much fer ya to handle?” Shinji taunted.   
__  
Smug bastard. Kisuke's eyes narrowed. That sounded like a challenge to him. He adjusted his grip on Shinji's knees, pushing them back toward the Vizard's body, and pulled out slowly. Just to tease, just to let Shinji think he really was about to lose it.  
  
Shinji's smirk widened, and that was when Kisuke let him have it. He pushed back in, a harsh thrust, and pulled back out again. In. Out. In. Out. Faster and faster, slamming into his older lover with little restraint. Shinji's body rocked toward the headboard, wrists jerking against the necktie, and he cried out, legs fighting against Kisuke's hold. The shopkeeper let them drop and Shinji instantly locked his ankles behind Kisuke's back, leaving Kisuke's hands free to roam. And roam they did.   
  
One hand cupped Shinji's hip while the other curled around Shinji's cock, giving him a firm stroke that made the Vizard arch into Kisuke's hold. A cry, more like a curse, echoed in the bedroom, loud enough to be heard in the next room. Kisuke sucked in a breath, painfully aroused by Shinji's reactions, and drove his hips forward. The combination of arousal and heat made him a little dizzy and he groaned, pleasure dancing up and down his spine, coiling in his belly, shooting toward his groin.   
  
Shinji's hips rose up to meet him, riding Kisuke's thrusts as though they were nothing, gasping each time Kisuke slammed into his body. His face had taken on a gorgeous, aroused flush, his eyes dark and drugged. His wrists tugged on the headboard, making dull clunking noises that were sure to annoy Hiyori in the next room over... and make Lisa wish she had her camera on the other side. Shinji chewed on his bottom lip and Kisuke wished he were limber enough to lean forward and kiss him, but that would have to be saved for later.   
  
He twisted his fingers around Shinji's cock, brushed his thumb over the leaking head, angled his hips so that each thrust raked across Shinji's prostrate. He could feel his lover clenching around him, could feel the press of Shinji's thighs on his waist, and each sensation only added to the coiling in his belly. His fingers twitched on Shinji's hip, holding him tighter as he drove into the lithe, well-muscled body, feeling sweat drip down his spine.   
  
Shinji would make him pay for this rough treatment tomorrow, but for now, it was too good for Kisuke to pass up. Hell, it would be worth it. He sucked in a breath, felt the heat spiraling within him, and knew he wouldn't last for much longer. Musk and alcohol and Shinji's unique scent filled the room, invading his senses, and Kisuke responded to it like he'd been trained to. His gut twisted, his hips driving forward with mindless rhythm.   
  
“Kisuke... I'm close,” Shinji groaned, head snapping back against the pillow as he arched his back, fingers curling into fists.   
  
Sucking in a breath, Kisuke squeezed Shinji's cock, knowing just how much the Vizard liked that. “Good,” he replied. “Cause I'm following you.”   
  
Shinji laughed, but it was breathless and dissolved into a moan as he shivered, hips working toward that much-desired release. Kisuke watched, open-eyed and hungry, as Shinji groaned long and deep, body twisting against the mattress when he shuddered. Liquid warmth spilled over Kisuke's fingers, coating them in Shinji's seed, and it sent a ripple of sensation over Kisuke's cock.   
  
Something that better resembled a whimper broke past Kisuke's lips as he let go of Shinji's cock, placed both hands on the Vizard's hips and held tight. Muscles gripped him firmly and he leaned forward, thrusting solidly into his lover. He pushed and pulled back, the wet slap of flesh on flesh echoing around him in a lewd accompaniment.   
  
Shinji grinned, winked at him, and suddenly clenched down hard, despite how uncomfortable it must have been for him. It felt like Kisuke's brain shorted out as he groaned, hips slamming against Shinji, his release as much pulled out of him as it was granted. He panted, sweated, acted like a mannerless beast as he came, fingers gripping tight enough to leave bruises that Shinji would probably punish him for later.   
  
Mmm. Punishment. Yeah, Kisuke quite liked the sound of that.   
  
Body tingling, aftermath rushing over him like a warm and fuzzy blanket, Kisuke released his grip on Shinji's hips and visibly slumped. He gingerly slipped free of Shinji's body and tipped sideways, collapsing on the bed next to the Vizard. Kisuke felt pleasantly sated now, drowsy too, and the idea of curling up and falling asleep was very appealing.   
  
“Oy,” Shinji said, pushing an elbow into his ribcage. Not painfully, just enough to get his attention and be annoying. “Untie me. Oh, and hand me a shirt or somethin'.”   
  
“Nergh.”   
  
Shinji's elbow applied a bit more pressure. “Ya wanna top, ya gotta clean th' mess,” he reminded him. That had been the agreement.   
  
With a long-suffering sigh, Kisuke rose up and undid the simple knots he'd used to bind Shinji's wrists. He was relieved to find that the flesh was only a little red beneath the tie, and Shinji rubbed them with his fingers, nodding approvingly. A relief.   
  
Kisuke then flopped over and dropped his arm over the side of the bed, rooting around the floor and emerging with a shirt. His shirt in fact. Oh well, he could always borrow clean clothes from Shinji later.   
  
He tossed it in the Vizard's general direction, and grinned when it smacked Shinji in the face. “There. A shirt.”   
  
“Clearly we are past the honeymoon stage of this relationship,” Shinji remarked dryly.   
  
Kisuke flopped back over, peering at him with one eye as Shinji wiped himself down and then tossed the shirt to Kisuke, for his sticky fingers. “I don't recall getting married.”   
  
“Like I'd marry ya anyway,” Shinji retorted, but it was said affectionately, one hand reaching out to flick at Kisuke's sweat-soaked hair.   
  
A breath of cool air brushed across Kisuke's bare back, coming from the ceiling fan above. It was oddly quiet in the room now, with only the ticking of the wall clock to break the silence.   
  
Kisuke snorted. “You'd make a terrible husband.”   
  
“And you a terrible wife,” Shinji countered, arching one brow. “Yer worthless in the kitchen and I've seen yer idea of housekeepin'.”   
  
“Hey! What makes me the wife?”   
  
“The fact that ya'd look good in a dress?”   
  
Rolling his eyes, Kisuke reached up, snagged a pillow and dragged it under his head, sleepiness making him drowsy. That and the alcohol he'd consumed earlier. All he wanted to do was sleep.   
  
“I can't exactly wear white, can I?”   
  
Shinji laughed and the bed creaked as he shifted around, grabbing a blanket from where it clung stubbornly to the end corner of the bed and threw it over the both of them. “I don't think either of us can.”   
  
Kisuke's mouth curved into a smile. “Hey, I'm not complaining,” he said and then breathed in and out slowly. “Now go to sleep.”   
  
“Yes, master,” Shinji replied drolly, flopping down on the mattress and wriggling around until he got comfortable. “But I reserve th' right to breakfast in bed in th' mornin', if ya know what I mean.”   
  
Kisuke couldn't fight the shiver that tiptoed down his spine. Oh, he knew all too well. In fact, he quite looked forward to it. “Fine by me.”   
  


* * *

  
 


	6. Chapter 6

Abarai hadn't left, a fact which brought Shinji much glee. He'd expected the Shinigami to turn tail and run, to escape before Shinji could get his hands all over that tattooed body. Instead, Abarai had stuck around, sneaking Shinji knowing, heated glances.   
  
Abarai had disappeared for the afternoon, doing heaven knew what, but he returned to the shoten in the evening. And all during the evening Shinji could feel the weight of those amber eyes. It made him grin, made his pants too tight and he had to excuse himself from the table to the privacy of the bathroom.   
  
He'd jerked off thinking of Abarai's tattoos, that sexy fanged grin, and sweat painted over tanned skin. He'd entertained countless positions and the feel of such reckless reiatsu buzzing over his skin. He came with a bitten off cry, vowing to himself that he would have Abarai writhing beneath him soon enough.   
  
By the time he returned to the dinner table, Abarai was gone, Ichigo had mysteriously disappeared, and Kisuke was watching him with a knowing gleam in his eyes. The damn perverted bastard. He probably had cameras everywhere, if Shinji knew Kisuke half as well as he thought he did. No small wonder that Kisuke and Lisa got on as well as they did.   
  
“Any luck?” Kisuke asked.   
  
“I don't kiss and tell,” Shinji said.   
  
Kisuke grinned slowly, like he knew some secret that Shinji didn't. “You never had a problem doing so before.”   
  
“Mebbe things 're different now,” Shinji retorted and tried to pick up his dinner again. But it had grown cold and he was no longer hungry for food.   
  
Kisuke practically cackled. “Yeah, right,” he said, and popped more rice into his mouth. “My surveillance system tells me otherwise.”   
  
“I should have known you had cameras,” Shinji said with a groan, but he couldn't fight the grin twitching at the corner of his lips. “Tell me ya kept it at least.”   
  
“Of course I did,” Kisuke retorted, sounding affronted. “That's prime video! Why? Would you like a copy of it?”   
  
Shinji chuckled to himself. “Depends on what it'll cost me.”   
  
“Trust me. The sight alone more than covers the cost.” Kisuke smacked his lips as though savoring some delicious morsel. “I should have taken advantage of dear Abarai-kun the first chance I had. Now, I'll never know. I've been ruined by monogamy.”   
  
Rolling his eyes, Shinji pushed more food around the plate before deciding he was done. “Ichigo isn't exactly a bad catch.”  
  
“Did I sound like I regretted him or something?”   
  
“No.” Shinji shook his head, borrowed the use of a napkin, and rose to his feet. “I'm just sayin' that jealousy doesn't become ya, Ki-chan.” He grinned and swept a hand over his hair. “In your case, I think I'd enjoy monogamy.”   
  
Kisuke snorted. “Hands off, pervert.”   
  
“Case of pot and kettle, my friend. Pot and kettle,” Shinji teased and made his escape from the dining room, knowing that Kisuke watched his exit warily. Shinji wouldn't ever really try to sweep Ichigo out from under Kisuke's nose, but he could understand Kisuke's comments. Shinji wished he'd gotten a taste before Kisuke had ruined Ichigo with monogamy.   
  
He sighed. Ah, but for chances wasted. But then, Abarai wasn't exactly a box of tissues for a consolation prize.   
  
Shinji wandered into the library, killing some time by puttering through Kisuke's vast collection. But as usual, the available texts were dry and scientific reading, hardly enough to keep Shinji awake. In the back corner, he found a small selection of decent fiction and snagged a couple, returning to his room. Along the way he passed by the room that had been loaned to Abarai for his use.   
  
_Tomorrow_ , he thought, _Definitely tomorrow. I will corner Abarai somewhere_. He wasn't sure where, exactly, but he would make it happen. That one taste simply had not been enough. Shinji wanted more.   
  
He spent an hour trying to get distracted by the story of the first book, but it just wasn't interesting enough. The author's writing was dry and failed to engage and he spent most of his time skimming the meandering descriptions. But it did benefit in making Shinji sleepy, so he set it aside, bookmark between the pages, and clicked off the lamp by his futon.   
  
Shinji closed his eyes, tried to get comfortable, and entertained himself with vivid images of all the dirty things he would do to Abarai once the redhead gave him leave. He'd have to borrow some of Kisuke's toys to make a good bit of it possible, but he was sure the other blond wouldn't mind. Not one bit. Especially if he got to enjoy the videos later.   
  
A grin curving his lips, Shinji turned on his side and thought about sleep. That was until the noises started. His eyes popped open and he glared at the wall. Kisuke must have planned this on purpose, making his walls so thin that anyone could hear when he was boinking his lover-boy. Except...  
  
Shinji chuckled to himself, rolling his eyes. It sounded an awful lot like Ichigo was the one bending Kisuke backward on the futon. Shinji remembered that very well. Kisuke looked quite tasty on his back, flushed and sweaty and begging for it. Shinji didn't blame Ichigo for wanting a piece of that.   
  
But still... right now? Did they have to? When Shinji was trying to sleep, already sexually frustrated from a redheaded cock tease?   
  
He thought about putting a pillow over his head, but he knew that wouldn't muffle the noises any more than the walls had managed. Shinji was just going to have to listen to it until they were done, and knowing them, that could be an hour or two from now. Sighing, he curled on his side and shoved his hands into his pajama bottoms, curling fingers around his half-hard shaft.   
  
Shinji leisurely stroked himself, lingering in sensation, wishing that he had more than his fingers to satisfy. Thinking that if only Abarai were here, things would be a hell of a sexier.   
  
Of course, that was the moment someone chose to knock on his door. It was a light tap, as though the visitor were conscious of the fact Shinji might be sleeping this time of night. Shinji stretched out his senses, and a gleeful smile curled his lips. It was Abarai. Sometimes wishes did come true.   
  
“Come in,” he called, and withdrew his hand from his pajama bottoms. He wouldn't need to take care of himself after all.   
  
The door slid open and Abarai stepped inside, dressed in nothing but a loose pair of borrowed sweatpants that drooped enticingly from his hips. There was a tantalizing glimpse of hipbone that made Shinji's insides lance with heat. More than that, however, was the fact that Abarai's long hair was loose, a spill of blood-colored strands over his shoulder, a perfect contrast to his dark tattoos.   
  
A loud cry rose up from the next room over, a desperate demand for more that could only have come from Kisuke. A flush darkened Abarai's cheeks as he glanced at the wall.   
  
“They're louder in here,” he commented offhandedly, stepping fully inside and closing the door behind him with a quiet thump.   
  
He didn't exactly look uneasy standing there in front of the door, but he didn't look confident either. More like he wasn't sure what he was supposed to do and was waiting for a sign – or perhaps invitation – from Shinji.   
  
“I think they're doin' this on purpose,” Shinji commented, and crossed his arms behind his head, knowing that his erection was a noticeable bulge beneath the blanket. “It might even be a challenge.”   
  
Abarai snorted, but looked at the wall when there was an interesting thump. “Challenge, huh?” he repeated, sounding intrigued, arms hanging at his side.   
  
“Yeah.” Shinji made no secret of the way he was eying Abarai, wondering what it would take to get the redhead to strip out of those thin pants and join Shinji on the futon. “Wanna see if we can do better?”   
  
Those amber-red eyes swung back toward Shinji, and a dark brow arched. “Are ya serious?”   
  
“There's gotta be some reason ya came to my room in the middle of the night,” Shinji said, sitting up enough that the blanket slid down, revealing that he wore no shirt beneath. “I know it ain't fer a heart to heart.”   
  
Abarai smirked. “No, it isn't.” He moved closer, just a few steps, and Shinji watched as he dropped to his knees, crawling forward until he was perched over Shinji like he were some kind of predator.   
  
Well, well.   
  
Shinji licked his lips. “Are you accepting my invitation then?”   
  
“I thought that was obvious,” Abarai returned, his voice a deep purr that traveled straight to Shinji's cock. “Though yer probably the type that needs a practical demonstration, right?” he asked.   
  
Before Shinji could answer, Abarai leaned forward on his palms and closed the short distance between them, sealing their lips together in a hungry kiss. Shinji groaned as their tongues touched and his hands came up, instantly burying themselves in Abarai's hair and tangling in the silky strands. He fucking loved Abarai's hair, and Shinji got a good grip on it, giving it a light tug that pulled a whine from Abarai's throat.   
  
Shinji grinned into the kiss. He knew it. Abarai liked the rough stuff.   
  
The redhead pushed their bodies closer together, one hand grabbing the blanket that covered Shinji's hips and legs, and tugged it aside. Shinji took that opportunity to give a firmer yank on Abarai's hair, enough to pull at the scalp and sting. Abarai grunted and broke off the kiss, tongue sliding over reddened lips and eyes dark with need.   
  
“You like that?” Shinji asked, and this time his voice was low and husky, edged with desire.   
  
“I think that's pretty obvious,” Abarai growled and attacked Shinji's throat, lips and teeth and tongue scraping across his flesh, making him shiver.   
  
Shinji sucked in a breath and then a hand planted on his chest, giving him a solid push. He thumped backward and Abarai followed him down, mouth tracing a hot trail across his chest and over to his nipples. His tongue swiped over the peaked bud on the right, encountering the cool glimmer of metal. Teeth got a hold of the silver ring, giving it a light tug that made Shinji arch, and his cock twitch.   
  
“Heh,” Abarai chuckled, lips and tongue assaulting Shinji's nipple without pause. “Ya didn't have these yesterday.”   
  
Dragging his fingers down the length of long, scarlet hair, Shinji smirked. “I didn't want to give away everything,” he said, and then bit back a gasp as Abarai switched to the left, worrying the untouched nipple with his lips and tongue, teeth tugging at the ring in a perfect rhythm to the slow beat of Shinji's heart, arousal thrumming through him. “You like, I take it?”   
  
“I'm curious,” Abarai said, his palms cupping Shinji's side and sliding downward, resting on the waistband of his sweatpants, toying with the fabric. “Got any other piercings I should know about?”  
  
Shinji bucked his hips, trying to encourage Abarai toward the removal of said pajama bottoms. “You could undress me and find out.”   
  
Chuckling, the vice captain sat back on his heels, forcing Shinji to release his grip on all that fine hair. Fingers curled around the waistband and Abarai gave a pointed tug. Shinji helpfully lifted his lips, and the thin material was easily tugged off and aside.  
  
Shinji pointed with his toes at Abarai's remaining garment. “Off,” he commanded.   
  
“I was gettin' to that,” Abarai replied, rolling his eyes, but he shimmied out of his pants too and tossed them over his shoulder.   
  
Shinji pointedly leered at the inches of bare skin that were revealed, tanned flesh in beautiful contrast to those dark tattoos, some of which ventured lower than Shinji would have expected. There were none on Abarai's cock, which proved he wasn't a total masochist, but still, those were some tender areas!  
  
“Nice,” Shinji said, licking his lips.   
  
Abarai rolled his eyes and moved back over Shinji, straddling his upper thighs. “Yer not too bad yerself,” he said, with a lingering look at Shinji's nipple rings and a teasing stroke of his finger down the length of Shinji's cock. “Got lube?”   
  
Shinji's eyebrows made a mad dash for his hairline. “That wasn't what we agreed,” he said, though Abarai was certainly doing pleasant things to his cock that made him hard to disagree with.   
  
Abarai grinned, displaying those almost fang-like incisors that made Shinji's insides twist with want. “I said ya could fuck me,” he purred in a dark, sexy tone. “I didn't say ya'd get ta be on top.”   
  
Shinji stifled a burst of laughter and dug under the futon for the bottle of oil he'd stashed there earlier. “Throwing my own words back at me, I see,” he said, handing over the bottle.   
  
Accepting it gracefully, Abarai rose to his knees as he poured the unscented oil over his fingers. “Just wanted to make sure yer payin' attention is all,” he said and as Shinji watched with bated breath, the tattooed Shinigami reached around, two slick fingers prodding at his entrance.   
  
Shinji's mouth went dry; he loved watching his lovers finger themselves and Abarai was no exception. He panted, grimaced, worked his fingers and rocked his hips in a minute rhythm as he stretched himself. Shinji's palms landed on Abarai's thigh, smoothing over sculpted muscle, itching to join in. But for right now, this was Abarai's show, so he'd let him think he was in control.   
  
Abarai sucked in a breath, arousal flushing his face a shade to match his hair, before he withdrew his fingers and focused slick fingers on Shinji's cock.   
  
Shinji groaned as those talented fingers gripped his length, stroking the oil over his cock. He licked his lips as in the next room over, more groans rose through the walls, as though in challenge. For a moment, Shinji had forgotten about his exhibitionistic neighbors.   
  
Amber eyes cut to the wall. “There they go again,” Abarai said, shifting forward until he straddled Shinji's hips, the Vizard's cock positioned just perfect. One hand pressed to Shinji's abdomen as the other guided the head of Shinji's length to Abarai's puckered entrance.   
  
“Guess that means we'd better catch up,” Shinji said with a pointed glance at Abarai, his hips rocking upward.   
  
“Yeah, yeah. Impatient bastard,” Abarai retorted, rolling his eyes, but he sank down anyway, Shinji sliding inside of tight, velvety heat with a flood of sensation that made the Vizard groan. Damn, but Abarai felt good.   
  
Abarai grunted, a flash of discomfort flitting over his face as both hands braced themselves on Shinji's abdomen and he rocked his hips downward, taking Shinji to the hilt. His insides clenched around Shinji's cock, and pleasure cascaded down Shinji's spine.   
  
“Ya good?” Shinji gasped, his hands sliding up Abarai's thighs to grip his hips, fingers rhythmically clenching.   
  
“Been a while,” Abarai groaned in return, but his own erection hadn't lagged, and he hadn't asked to stop. Instead, he sucked in a breath, pushed himself upward, and dropped back down again, beginning a steady, deep cadence that made Shinji's face contort with pleasure.   
  
Oh yeah. This was everything he'd wanted and more.   
  
Abarai soon relaxed, his discomfort easing, and his movements became more energetic, more hungry. He picked himself up and slammed himself back down, the slap of flesh on flesh echoing in the room. Abarai was much quieter than their noisy neighbors, but each soft groan and eager panting was more arousing to Shinji than the obvious cries from the next room over.   
  
Besides, watching sweat streak down that tattooed flesh was more than enough eye candy to make Shinji grin.   
  
This was damn good, but it still wasn't what Shinji had in mind. He'd wanted to pin Abarai beneath him, wanted to fuck him good and hard.   
  
Shinji's grip tightened, his insides twisting with heat, pooling in his groin, making him throb. But he wanted more.   
  
Licking his lips, giving Abarai a flash of the metal on his tongue, Shinji grinned and tightened his hold on Abarai's hips. “My turn,” he purred, and surged upward, surprising Abarai with the sudden shift.   
  
The Shinigami abruptly flailed. He shouted as he went flying backward, landing half on the futon and half on the tatami, hair spread out behind him. One hand flew out to catch himself as he landed with a thump.   
  
Shinji curled his fingers under Abarai's upper thighs as he slid between the Shinigami's legs and easily plunged back inside Abarai's entrance. Abarai groaned, though the fire in his eyes demanded an explanation.   
  
“What the fuck?” he shouted, anger dissolving into arousal as Shinji thrust into him, angled just so, cock raking across Abarai's prostate. A low moan echoed from Abarai's throat.   
  
Grinning, Shinji leaned over the Shinigami, who wisely wrapped his legs around Shinji's waist, and planted one hand near Abarai's head. “A change of pace.”   
  
“Selfish bastard!” Abarai ground out, but his hips snapped upward and met Shinji thrust for thrust, head snapping back against the tatami. “I better get my turn then.”   
  
“Whatever ya want,” Shinji purred and leaned closer, lips inches from Abarai's own. “Just let me have my way with ya tonight,” he added, and sealed their mouths together in a wet, messy kiss that was like icing to a cake.   
  
Abarai groaned into the kiss, a wordless agreement, and wrapped one arm around Shinji's back, holding him close. His other hand snaked between their bodies, wrapping sword-calloused fingers around his neglected cock.   
  
“Fine,” he gritted out. “Whatever. But ya better not disappoint.”   
  
Shinji leered. “Oh, that's one thing ya don't have ta worry about,” he boasted, and slammed forward, plunging into Abarai with a heavy thrust that caused the redheaded Shinigami's breath to hitch and something a lot like a whimper to echo in his throat.   
  
His face flushed, brown-red eyes half-lidded with pleasure. Abarai, in the midst of desire, was a sight to behold, and not for the first time did Shinji congratulate himself on his fantastic luck in choosing to visit Kisuke at this perfect time.   
  
Warmth pooling in his belly, Shinji picked up the paces of his thrusts, glad for the change in angle which caused Abarai to squeeze him just right. It was like sliding into velvety heat that gripped his cock and dragged him into a spiral of pleasure.   
  
“Don't... ah... come in me,” Abarai demanded on the edge of a growl, throwing his head back as he bucked his hips.   
  
Shinji groaned, feeling like he was being snatched away from a delicious treat. “What? Why?” He wasn't whining. No, he wasn't.   
  
“Because I don't feel like taking a bath, that's why,” Abarai retorted, and his fingers dug into Shinji's back, half out of warning, half out of arousal.   
  
Rolling his eyes, Shinji huffed. He was already so damn close and this was seriously inconvenient. He shoved his hips forward, one last time, rocking Abarai's body roughly and then suddenly pulled out, slamming their hips together. He ground down, his oil-slick cock rubbing against Abarai's and the back of those thick knuckles.   
  
Abarai groaned and Shinji hissed in pleasure as he curled his fingers around their arousals and frantically jerked the both of them off, arousal twisting in his belly like a hot knife. It sizzled down his spine, exploded in the back of his head like multi-colored fireworks, and he panted like a mad beast, the sound of Abarai's equally labored breathing the perfect accompaniment.   
  
Muttering something wordless under his breath, Shinji groaned as his release felt as if it was ripped from him, and he splattered over their combined grip, making a sticky mess. Abarai got a handful of blond hair and pulled Shinji down, breathing hot and damp over Shinji's lips before yanking him into a kiss that was teeth and tongue, no style, just heat and hunger.   
  
It was tantalizingly sexy and Shinji groaned into the kiss as Abarai twisted and bucked beneath him, body straining toward release of his own. Shinji squeezed Abarai's cock, fingers working him just right, and was rewarded with the warm splatter of come across his fingers, some of it dripping onto Abarai's rippled abdomen.   
  
Abarai moaned, long and low, breaking off the kiss to lay his head back as he shook with the last quivers of his release. His hand fell away from his cock and Shinji unwound his fingers as well, tipping to the side so that his exhausted body wouldn't make for a hot, sticky blanket over Abarai's own. He, too, sprawled half-on, half-off the futon.   
  
“Shit,” Shinji panted, though his exclamation was hardly one of disappointment. Sweat coated his body, and he could still feel the tremors of pleasure vibrating through him.   
  
Abarai made a noise that was possibly disagreement, swiping a hand down his face and grimacing when he realized he'd accidentally smeared some of the sticky mess on his cheek. “Gross.”   
  
Shinji laughed. “Wasn't gross thirty seconds ago.”   
  
“Yeah, well, it's just a mess now,” Abarai retorted, but he didn't make much effort to move. For that matter, neither did Shinji.   
  
He reached out with a leg, prodded Abarai in the calf with his toe. “Get a towel.”   
  
“Hand me some pants or somethin'.”   
  
“Yer not stainin' my pants with yer fluids.”   
  
“It's yer mess, too.”   
  
Shinji snorted and closed his eyes, contemplating if he had enough energy to roll over and pin Abarai again, or if he'd need another nap.   
  
“They're quiet now,” Abarai said, his voice disturbing the echoing quiet.   
  
Despite himself, Shinji chuckled. “Guess we shut 'em up.”   
  
“Guess we did.”   
  
Shinji licked his lips, eyes shifting to the side where they traced a bead of sweat as it trailed down the side of Abarai's neck, tracking the line of a dark tattoo. “Ready for round two, then?”   
  
There was a moment of waiting before Abarai cracked a grin. “Give it yer best shot.”   
  
Oh, that sounded like a challenge. One Shinji would gladly accept.   
  


* * *


	7. Epilogue

“Well, don't you two look exhausted,” Kisuke commented, his gray-green eyes darting between Shinji and Renji, who were practically asleep at his breakfast table.  
  
Shinji snorted, stirring. “You're one ta talk,” he said, and lifted both brows. “Keepin' people up all night 'cause ya can't keep yer hands off yer younger lover.”  
  
Beside Shinji, Abarai made a stifled sound into his cup of Tessai-brewed tea. It was quite possibly amusement, though Abarai didn't seem willing to voice his opinion. To be fair, he was probably still a little hoarse.  
  
They had exhausted themselves last night, thus the reason for the late breakfast. Shinji had purposefully worn long sleeves, to hide the marks on his wrist, and there was a reason Abarai had chosen a high collar for today. Not that it could conceal the general fatigue a night full of bed-breaking brought about.  
  
Of course morning had also brought about the obligatory brief conversation regarding what exactly their night before had meant. It came to a mutual understanding of pleasure for pleasure's sake and that was that. They'd each secured a companion for those cold, lonely nights, without the bothersome requirement of monogamy and obligatory phone calls and/or awkward candlelit dinners.  
  
“That sounds like jealousy, Shinji,” Kisuke replied, and his eyes cut to the doorway, suddenly lighting up. “Good morning, Ichigo! You're looking chipper.”  
  
Shinji glanced over his shoulder and nearly swallowed his tongue. Chipper was the complete opposite of Ichigo's expression. He looked exhausted, and the scowl he was directing at his older lover was hardly welcoming.  
  
“Morning,” the younger Vizard grunted, and slumped down at the table next to Kisuke, looking as though he might tip over and fall asleep right on the shopkeeper's shoulder. “What're you talking about?”  
  
“Stuff that'll make your ears burn,” Shinji joked, and dove heartily into his breakfast. He'd burned a lot of energy last night. Best to build it back up as soon as possible. He and Abarai still had plans.  
  
“How's that any different from usual?” Ichigo asked, stirring enough to grab himself a bowl of rice and mechanically put some in his mouth.  
  
Shinji grinned. “It's not,” he said. “But I don't think ya mind. I keep life interestin'.”  
  
Ichigo snorted. “Whatever.”  
  
A sly look glinted in gray-green eyes. “Interesting,” Kisuke repeated, and his eyes flickered to Abarai. “I'll say. I never realized my walls were so thin.”  
  
Abarai choked on a bite of rice and Ichigo's ears burned a fiery crimson.  
  
“You really ought to think about investin' in some soundproofin' or something, Ki-chan,” Shinji teased, leaning forward across the table. He found far too much amusement in making Abarai and Ichigo embarrassed. “Though some of us didn't mind the free show.”  
  
Ichigo spluttered. “You... you...”  
  
Kisuke, for his part, twitched. “Apparently not. Since you seemed to take it as an invitation to try and be louder.” His eyes shifted to Abarai. “I hope you didn't break dear Abarai here. Ichigo still needs a sparring partner.”  
  
This time it was Abarai's turn to shift into a blaze of embarrassment as Ichigo choked on his breakfast, the two of them glaring at the pair of blond perverts as though the combined force of their gaze would set the two men on fire.  
  
“I never break my toys,” Shinji said, plopping his chin on his palm as his elbow hit the table. “Otherwise, I can't play with 'em later.”  
  
“ _Goddamnit_ ,” Ichigo exclaimed, shooting both his lover and Shinji a look that mixed exasperation with horror and a shit-ton of humiliation. “You two never stop!”  
  
Kisuke smirked. “Unless his mouth is otherwise occupied.”  
  
Shinji laughed, loud and full, as Ichigo slammed a fist into the table, turning as red as a tomato. Abarai buried his face in his breakfast.  
  
“Rememberin' the good old times, Ki-chan?” Shinji asked, just because he was having too much fun. “Wishing you could relive the glory days?”  
  
Kisuke snorted, leaning back in his chair, looking redolent and comfortable. “What good is the past when the present is far more enticing?”  
  
Should he take that as an insult? Shinji wasn't sure. He crinkled his brow, tried to reason out all the many implications in Kisuke's words.  
  
Finally, he decided that it wasn't an insult. It was a _challenge_.  
  
“Oh?” Shinji said, and the smile that curled his lips was better recognized as a leer. “I don't think I can agree to that without a basis for comparison.”  
  
Abarai's brow crinkled. “What th' hell does that mean?” he asked, finally speaking and overcoming some of his earlier embarrassment. Or maybe he just really wasn't a morning person.  
  
“I think I can hazard a guess,” Kisuke replied, shaking his head as though he couldn't believe Shinji was going there.  
  
Shinji could barely contain his glee as he turned toward Ichigo on his right, tongue flicking across his lips. “Hey, Ichigo, what would you say to a foursome. You, me, Ki-chan and Abarai here?”  
  
The look on Ichigo's face at that – and Abarai's choked coughing behind Shinji – was probably the funniest thing Shinji had seen in a century.  
  


* * *


End file.
